













Copyright, 1885, 

^by Harfer it Brothers 


August 20, 1886 


Subscription Price 
per Yeiir, 52 Numbers, f16 


Entered at the Post-Office at New York, as Secoud-cliiss Mail Matter 


OUR RADICALS 




'71 Sale of £ot)e auh politico 




BY 




FRED. BURNABY" 


j . 


AUTHOR OF “a RIDE TO KHIVA ” ETC. 


EDITED, WITH PREFACE, BY HIS PRIVATE SECRETARY 

J. PERCIVAL HUGHES 




Books you may hold i%tdily in your hand are the most useful^ after all 

Dr. Johnson 


□ 

“r 



> 


NEW YORK 


.1^ 


HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 

1886 


HARPER’S HANDY SERIES. 


Latest Issues. 


No. 


CENTS. 


64. Fortune’s WnEEL. A Novel. By Alex. Innes Shand 

65. Lord Beaconsfield’s Correspondence with his Sister — 

1832-1852 

66. Mauleverer’s Millions. A Yorkshire Romance. By T. Wemyss 

Reid 

67. What Does History Teach? Two Edinburgh Lectures. By 

John Stuart Blackie 

68. The Last OP THE Mac Allisters. A Novel. By Mrs. Amelia E. Barr. 

69. Cavalry Life. Sketches and Stories. By J. S. Winter 

60. Movements of Religious Thought in Britain during the Nine- 

teenth Century. By John Tulloch, D.D., LL.D 

61. Hurrish ; A Study. By the Hon. Emily Lawless 

62. Irish History for English Readers. By Wm. Stephenson Gregg. 

63. Our Sensation Novel. By Justin H. McCarthy 

64. In Shallov?- Waters. A Novel. By Annie Armitt 

65. Tulip Place. A Story of New York. By Virginia W. Johnson. 

66. With the King at Oxford. A Tale of the Great Rebellion. 

By Rev. Alfred J. Church, M.A 

67. Sea -Life Sixty Years Ago. By Captain George Bayly 

68. Doom! An Atlantic Episode. By Justin H. McCarthy 

69. The Choice op Books. By Frederic Harrison 

70. Aunt Rachel. A Novel, fey D. Christie Murray 

71. Goethe’s Faust. Translated by John Anster, LL.D 

72. The Evil Genius. A Novel. By Wilkie Collins 

73. The Absentee. An Irish Story. By Maria Edgeworth 

74. If Love be Love. A Forest Idyl. By D. Cecil Gibbs 

75. French and German Socialism in Modern Times. By Richard 

T. Ely, Ph.D 

76. King Arthur. Not a Love Story. By Miss Mulock 

77. The Head Station. A Story of Australian Life. By Mrs. Camp- 

bell-Praed 

78. Army Society. A Discursive Story. By J. S. Winter. Ill’d. . . . 

79. Pluck. A Novel. By J. S. Winter 

80. Her Own Doing. A Novel. By W. E. Norris 

81. Cynic Fortune. A Novel. By D. Christie Murray 

82. Effie Ogilvie. The Story of a Young Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. 

83. Alton Locke. Tailor and Poet. By Charles Kingsley 

84. A Daughter op the Gods. A Novel. By Jane Stanley 

,85. The Open Air. By Richard Jefferies 

86. The Fall op Asgard. A Novel. By Julian Corbett 

87. Katharine Blythe. A Novel. By Katharine Lee 

88. Bad to Beat. A Novel. By Hawley Smart 

89. A Playwright’s Daughter. A^Ko.vel. By Annie Edwardes. . 

90. Our Radicals. A Tale of Love' and Politics. By Fred Burnaby. 


26 

25 

25 

25 

26 
25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 


25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 


Other volumes in preparation. 

Harper & Brothers will send any of the above works by mail, postage pre» 
paidf to any part of (he United States or Canada, on receipt of the ptrice. 



- 7 . 

I 





P R E FAC E 


In the summer of the year 1882 a paragraph appeared in the Worl^ 
which graphically and accurately described Colonel Fred Burnaby 
' j,t work in his house in Charles Street. “ There is a little boudoir,” 

it ran, “ crowded with superb Dresden and Sevres, and in every con 
ner are presents from princes, many of them made on the occasion 
of Colonel Burnaby’s wedding. There are tokens of regard from 
Mr. Labouchere as from Mr. Yates, handsome souvenirs of the friend- 
i ship of the royal princes, and a beautifully inlaid and mounted re- 

' volver from Don Carlos. Essentially the dwelling of a travelled 

man, the writing-room up-stairs shows signs unmistakable of a liter- 
^ kry workshop. Apart from the official table, cumbered with the re^ 

ports and printed forms incidental to the command of a regiment, 
is another, with heaps of manuscript in the strange scrawl with 
vvhich the writer thinks it well to tax the intelligence of composi- 
tors, and which he likes to see in type before attempting to put the 
‘ final touches to his novel; for he will not be satisfied any longer 

with rides to Khiva, or Channel voyages in a balloon. Nothing will 
serve his purpose but the authorship of a novel, dealing with po- 
litical questions and personages. This is the magnum opus on which 
the colonel of the Blues gets to work early in the morning, before 
his regimental duties take him away to barracks. His manuscript, 
like his acts and deeds generally, is on a large scale. There are cer- 
tain men who require elbow-room, and whose height makes ordinary 
furniture appear absurd. At an ordinary table Colonel Burnaby 
would find writing crippling work, so he employs a writing-board, 
like a drawing-board, made out of the side of an old portmanteau. 
Resting this on one knee, he describes with great rapidity the cali- 
graphic puzzles he intends for the printer, sometimes in blue ink, 

‘ sometimes with a xylographic pen, often with a lead-pencil.” 


J 


2 


PREFACE. 


On the death of his mother Colonel Burnaby left 18 Charles Street, 
and took up his residence at 36 Beaufort Gardens. 

Most of the summer of 1884 he spent at Somerby, his estate in 
Leicestershire, returning to Beaufort Gardens in time to make his 
final preparations for his journey to the Soudan. 

The night before Colonel Burnaby left England he gave into my 
charge, among other important papers, the manuscript of the novel 
which I present to the public under the title of “ Our Radicals.” 

In doing so I am but carrying out an intention of his own. One 
of the last things he said to me at Victoria Station, a few minutes 
before his departure, was, “I shall publish that novel when I re- 
turn, but it will want a great deal of rewriting.” 

Had he lived to carry out his purpose, I believe great alterations 
would have been made in the construction of the work. Those 
material alterations with which he acquainted me I have refrained 
from making, as by so doing I should, in a great measure, have 
destroyed its originality. Occasionally it has been necessary to re- 
model sentences, and to supply dialogues; and as the novel was un- 
finished, I have been obliged to complete it on the lines which he 
laid down. But, with these exceptions, I have followed the original 
reading, word for word ; and the difficulties which others have ex- 
perienced in deciphering the manuscript I have overcome through 
familiarity with the author’s handwriting. 

In going through his papers after his death I found three letters 
written by him which possess some general interest, and which il- 
lustrate his own words, that to describe the places through which one 
travels it is essential that one should write easily and graphically. 

The first is dated February 11, 1877, from Erzeroum, Turkey in 
Asia, and was written three days after his arrival at that place, from 
Scutari, during his famous ride on horseback across Asia Minor : 

“ It has been a hard journey. Over thirteen thousand miles, and 
all on horseback, through deep mud at first, and in some places up 
to the horses’ girths. But on we went, leaving Ismid, the ancient 
Nicomedia, behind us, and spending the nights with people of all 
sorts of nationalities— Circassians, Tartars, Turks, Greeks, and Ar- 
menians, for all these races own the sultan as Lord of Anatolia — till 
we reached Angora, the town from whence the goat’s hair so cele- 
brated in Europe is brought to our English markets. I stayed at 
Angora three days, and was the guest of a rich Turkish gentleman, 


PREFACE. 


3 


who treated me in a princely manner. Then on the track again, 
over mountains and crags, passing over ground that abounds with 
mineral wealth, and, alas! left idly in the earth, till I reached Jur- 
gat, where I was the guest of an Armenian Christian. These Ar- 
menian Christians keep their wives in harems, and never allow them 
to expose their faces to a stranger. They are limited to one wife, it 
is true ; but to all intents and purposes they are exactly like the Mo- 
hammedans. 

“ ‘Why do you not introduce your family to me?’ I inquired one 
day of my host. 

‘“I keep my wife and daughter for myself, and not for my guests,’ 
was the reply. 

“All through this part of the world the same custom exists. 
Poor Armenian women 1 They are indeed to be pitied. They re- 
ceive no education whatever. What they do not know themselves, 
it is impossible to teach their children ; the result is that the whole 
population, Christian as well as Mussulman, is steeped in the deep- 
est slough of ignorance. And now I leave Jurgat, and pass by the 
town of Tokat. The snow grows thicker about our path ; we have 
to ride down glaciers and by precipices where a slip would prove 
our last. Now we cross the mighty Euphrates; along its banks we 
go— the scenery is lovely. The glaciers flashing in the sun, the 
many-colored rocks glinting from above their beds of snow. Then 
the road becomes more elevated. We arc always rising higher and 
higher. We lose sight of the Euphrates, which for some time has 
looked like a streak of silver beneath our horses’ feet, and we are 
above the clouds. We are more than a mile high, but on we go, 
still ascending, ever higher and higher. The sun clears away the 
surrounding mist, and before us in the distance, like a fleet of sail- 
ing-vessels which have been tossed into a safe haven by the lofty 
billows all ajpund them, lies Erzeroum, which city is supposed to 
have been the home of our first parents. The numerous minarets 
and spires appear in the distance like the masts of a mighty fleet, 
while the white and billowy-shaped mountains seem like the waves 
I have likened them to. We approach the city. It grows as we 
near its walls. The houses take form and shape, the minarets and 
domes flash in the setting sun, and Erzeroum is reached.” 

In December of the year 1877 he was in European Turkey with 
General Baker, and was at the battle of Tashkasan, when with 2800 


4 


PREFACE. 


men they had to cover the retreat of Shakir Pacha’s army from the 
Russian attack. 

On this occasion he wrote from Shakir Pacha’s headquarters, 
Othlukoi, eight days after the battle, which occurred on the 31st of 
December, 1878 : 

“We have been constantly on the move, and it has been a very 
exciting time, not only for the Turks, but also for lookers-on like my- 
self. When the news reached us that Plevna had fallen, it became 
at once elear that 120,000 more Russians would be free to march 
against our small force of 20,000, whieh, owing to the extreme cold 
in the Balkans, was rapidly diminishing, on an average 200 men 
going into hospital every day with frost-bites, dysentery, ague, etc. 
However, orders came from Constantinople for Shakir Pacha to 
hold his position at Kamack as long as possible. This he did in 
spite of several attacks by the Russians; but at last, on the 27th of 
December last, they suceeeded in sending a large force of 30,000 men 
by a mountain patli aeross the Balkans, and were thus enabled to at- 
tack us in rear as well as front. Baker Pacha, with a small brigade 
of 2800 men, was sent to the village of Tashkasan, to hold the fresh 
Russian foree in check while Shakir Paeha retreated with the re- 
mainder of our troops in the direction of the town in which we now 
are. I went with Baker, and on the last day of the year 1877 the 
Russians attacked us. They had 30,000 men ; we had only 2800. 
The battle raged from daybreak till sundown, and Shakir Pacha’s re- 
ply to Baker’s frequent demands for reinforcements was that he had 
none to give, and that we must hold our own, as, if the Russians 
were to carry our position, the whole of Shakir Pacha’s army, which 
was retreating, would be taken in flank and annihilated. The Turks 
fought splendidly, in spite of the tremendous odds, and struggled for 
every inch of ground with an extraordinary tenacity. The day 
seemed never inelined to end, and Baker kept looking, at his watch, 
while the Turks kept gazing at the sun, their tim^iece, as until 
nightfall it would be impossible for us to move. 

“ The hours rolled on, and our men died in their places. Just be- 
fore the sun set the Russians collected themselves for a supreme ef- 
fort, and charged our troops for the last time. The Turks, calling 
upon Allah, rushed at their foes, and aetr.rdly drove them back a 
few hundred yards. It was now too late for the Russians to make 
another attempt. 


rilEFACE. 


5 


“ In the dark we marched down the plain, and mustered our men 
before marching to this place. Out of our 2800 men 600 were 
killed or wounded, over 450 being killed. The Russians must have 
lost very heavily, owing to their attacking us in column with dense 
masses of troops. There was another little battle the day before 
yesterday, and we had the worst of it, losing over 200 men.” 

In March, 1883, he was travelling in Spain with a friend, and I 
make a few extracts from a letter dated from the Grand Hotel de 
Paris, at Madrid : 

“We arrived here the day before yesterday, having travelled 
through from Paris in thirty-eight hours. It is very cold here, some 
degrees below freezing, and a wind which, as you know, makes the 
cold more penetrating. The same day we arrived we received a let- 
ter from Count S , the Chamberlain of the King, appointing the 

following day at six p.m. for an audience of his majesty. We went 
there at that hour in evening dress, and were the first to be shown 
into the sovereign’s presence. He was very amiable, and introduced 
me to the queen, who speaks English well, and showed me his 
child, a little girl of about two years old. He then said, ‘ I am 
afraid I cannot keep the other people waiting. Come and lunch 
with us to-morrow at 12.30. Only the family, you know. I want 
so much to have a long talk to you.’ Of course we accepted. Af- 
ter dinner that evening we went to Senor C ’s box at the opera. 

The theatre was crowded. ‘ Mephistopheles ’ was the piece per- 
formed. The house was full of all the beauty of Madrid, and the 
king and queen were in the royal box, and nodded several times to 
us during, the opera. I met many old friends in the house, and en- 
joyed myself very much. To-day we went to the palace. I sat on 
the left hand of the queen, who was very agreeable. The three 
princesses were there — the youngest sister of the sovereign, who is 
to marry a Bavarian prince on the second of next month. She is 
pretty, and looks about eighteen ; he, I should say, is about thirty. 
Then there was a Spanish general whom 1 had known some twelve 
years ago, and, in addition, the English governesses, or companions, 
of the princesses. Nothing could exceed the kindness of the family. 
The king reminded me of his visits to me when he was an exile in 
London, and of how he had then partaken of my hospitality. 

“ After breakfast, or luncheon, which was very good, and when 
we had partaken of some magnificent strawberries, the king lit a cigar 


6 


PREFACE. 


and we smoked, the ladies talking to us all the while. He is a young 
man of about twenty-five years of age, dark and good-looking, tall, 
with large eyes, and a very intelligent face.” 

It will he much regretted that a rough diary, which he kept of 
his life in the Soudan, was lost on the Nile, and only a few letters 
reached England. 

The first was written from Wady Haifa, and dated Thursday, De- 
cember 4, 1884 : 

“ I have been appointed inspecting staff officer of the line betw^een 
Tanjour and Magrakeh, on the Nile, about sixty miles from this. 1 
have to superintend the moving of the Nile boats in that district; 
and, as the water is very shallow, most of them wdll have to be car- 
ried on land. It will be very hard work, but at the same time in- 
teresting employment. I leave this to-morrow to take up my new 
duties.” 

On the 11th of December he wrote from Dal, on the Nile : 

“I left Wady Haifa about five days ago, went by train (three 
hours) to Sarras, and then rode on camels here. The camels were 
bad, and broke down several times. We journeyed through the 
desert with not a blade of grass to be seen — nothing but w^hite sand, 
high rocks, and black crags. Since I have been here I have been very 
busy. The Nile here is like a mill-pond in many places, and w^hen 
the wind is not favorable the boats have to be carried for two and 
a half miles across the desert on men’s shoulders. Each boat weighs 
eleven hundred weight, and her stores three and a half tons, so this 
will give you an idea of the labor. I passed eleven boats through 
the cataract the first day, seventeen the next, thirty-four yesterday, 
and hope to do forty more to-day. Our work is to spur on all the 
officers and men, and see that they work to their uttermost. This I 
think they do, and it will be very difficult for me to get more out of 
them. It does not do to overspur a willing horse. I sleep on the 
ground in a waterproof bag, and have as aide-de-camp Captain Gas- 
coigne, late of mj regiment. He has just gone for an eight hours’ 
ride down the Nile to report to me on the boats coming up. A 
strong north wind is blowing to-day, which helps us much with the 
boats. I do hope it will continue, as some four hundred and fifty 
'more have to pass through these cataracts very shortly.” 

Four days later he wrote from the same camp at Dal, on the Nile: 

“I am up before daylight, getting boats and soldiers across the 


PKEFACE. 


7 


cataracts. It is very interesting, but good, hard work. There was 
a deadlock here before I arrived, but I have put things straight 
again,- and the boats are going on to Dongola without any delay. 

“ There is a strange mixture of people here — Arab camel-drivers, 
black Dongolese porters, still blacker Kroomen, Ked Indians, Cana- 
dian boatmen, Greek interpreters, men from Aden, Egyptian soldiery, 
Scotch, Irish, and English Tommy Atkins — a very babel of tongues 
and accents. The nights are cold, but on the whole I feel well. Sir 
Redvers Buller arrived this morning and expressed himself very 
pleased with the work done. An English soldier has just had a 
narrow escape; his boat ran against a rock and he was tossed into 
the water. His comrades threw him a life-belt, and he managed to 
catch it, or he would have been sucked down to a certainty. Cap- 
tain Gascoigne has just taken him a tumbler of whiskey. Buchanan, 
my servant, is well, and very useful. ” 

On the 24th of the same month he wrote : 

“Great excitement is prevailing at the present moment, as my 
basin, in which a black was washing my shirts, slipped out -of his 
hands and is sailing gayly down the Nile. Buchanan is in despair, 
as it cannot be replaced. The excitement increases. A black on 
board a boat close at hand has jumped into the river. The stream 
is dangerous here, there being so many rocks and eddies. He is 
pursuing the basin, he has come up to it and landed it safely. 

, “ It is dangerous bathing here, and two days ago, when swimming 
after his helmet, a man was drowned. He had just reached it when 
he threw up his arms and called out. It was impossible to aid him, 
and he sank immediately. He was probably caught in an eddy or 
small whirlpool, when the best swimmer has no chance. 

“It is extremely cold about two a.m., till the sun gets up, and 
then it is very warm in the middle of the day. I came back this 
morning after a three days’ excursion to the Isle of Say, where I 
have been arranging with the sheiks for the purchase of Indian corn 
and wood for fuel. I bought an Arab bedstead there for two dol- 
lars. For food, I live the same as the soldiers — preserved beef, pre- 
served vegetables, and lime-juice, with occasionally a drop of rum, 
which is very acceptable. A piece of bacon was served out to each 
man, and a pound of flour as well, this morning, as it is Christmas 
to-morrow. Bacon is a great luxury here. I am going to dine with 
Lieutenant-Colonel Alleync, of the Royal Artillery, to-morrow. He 


8 


PEEFACE. 


lias a plum-pudding he brought with him from England, and I can 
assure you we are looking forward to the consumption of that pud- 
ding very much like boys at school. I must have lost quite two 
stone the last month, and am all the better for it. A soldier stole 
some stores a few days ago. He has been tried by court-martial 
and given five years’ penal servitude. In old days he would have 
escaped with a flogging, but now that is abolished the man has to 
suffer five years instead. Poor fellow! I expect he does not bless 
the sentimentalists who did away with flogging in the army. Tak- 
ing everything into consideration, the men are behaving wonderfully 
well. They have very, very hard work, and this so-called Nile pic- 
nic is as severe a strain as well could be put on them, physically 
speaking. Yet you never hear a grumble, and they deserve the 
greatest praise. My tent is on the very edge of the river. Large 
rocks and bowlders are peering out of the water in all directions, 
and as each day the river falls, fresh blocks of stone come in view. 
I do not expect the last boat will pass this cataract before the middle 
of next month, and then I hope to be sent for to the front, as my 
leave ends the 31st of March, and it would take me quite a month to 
get from Khartoum to London, travelling almost night and day. It 
is a responsible post which Lord Wolseley has given me here, with 
forty miles of the most difficult part of the river, and I am very 
grateful to him for letting me have it ; but I must say I shall be 
better pleased if he sends for me when the troops advance upon 
Khartoum. Of course, some one must be left to look after the line 
of communication, and each man hopes he may not be the unfortu- 
nate individual. Anyhow, if I am left behind I shall not outwardly 
grumble, although I shall inwardly swear, as Lord Wolseley has 
been so, very kind,” 

The last letter is dated the 26th of December, from Dal on the 
Nile; 

“ Every morning I am up before six, and am out of doors all day, 
either on a camel or on my legs, superintending the transport of 
boats and boat-stores up the cataracts. I have not seen a newspaper 
for the last month, and we all live in blissful ignorance of the outer 
world. I had my Christmas dinner last night with Colonel Alleyne. 
Party; Lord Charles Beresford, Captain Gascoigne, and self. Din- 
ner: Preserved pea-soup, some ration beef, and a plum-pudding, 
sent out from England, which was done great justice to, the dinner 


PREFACE. 


9 


being washed down by libations of whiskey and brandy, mixed with 
Nile water. As some one observed, the Nile tastes strongly of 
whiskey after six p.m. One, joking about the expedition and its 
difficulties, remarked that there had been no such expedition since 
Hannibal tried to cross the ^Vlps in a boat. I expect to have got 
the last boat-load of soldiers through here by the second of next 
month, and then there will be very little for me to do, and I hope 
to be sent on.” 

That hope was realized, and on the 17th of January, 1885, in the 
battle of Abu Klea, fell “the brightest knight that ever waved a 
lance.” One who had known him intimat*ely for twenty years 
wrote, on hearing of the terrible news “His gallant spirit has 
flown as he wished, in a hand-to-hand fight for the service of his 
country, and the death-roll of English heroes has added to it a name 
inferior to none in heroic quality.” 

Had he lived to complete this novel himself, it would not have 
been surrounded with the sad reflections which must inevitably fall 
upon the minds of those who read these pages, and who knew him 
sufficiently to be able to trace in them that complete fearlessness 
which gave color to his views and characterized all his actions ; and 
which, moreover, evoked admiration alike from those who differed 
from him as from those with whom he thought in common. 

There is no need for me here to add to the words of praise that 
have been spoken and written already of him by illustrious friends 
and generous foes. I complete this labor of love with a great rever- 
ence for it, which will be shared by all who remember, as they read 
these pages, that the hand which penned them was the hand that 
struck its last blow for England’s honor. 

J. Percival Hughes. 

66 Westboukne Tereaoe, Hyde Park, W. 










- *1 ,'• ■ » * 

.tv* t*- .• 


' :* rT''w,>- 

^^^ * ' 


' - U 
■■r' 




i)K9 


. ‘r>:' 


^ • 


y^i l 


^ • i 


. ■» ’1 • • / w . 

i 


■ * 1 
f 



^ j- » ' I j 
; L ■ > 




r. * 

• • 

« / 






u 


' t# 


* A 

^•' --v 




.1 


V ^ 



r-i 



5 l' 


I-.. ■ : 
/ ' 


'-.*5 


A- 


» 

.• i 


s 5 ■ - . - > . ^ 


{- i* ^ 

• I 

f. 


• ♦ I ^ 






iV 





Aivr.v • 


. - , -1 V *. 


I=?^T 


♦ . u 


}■. 










«# 

•» 


., -•'^' , r .- ; . rr , 

-^ * U‘ ' I > . ’* • 


. . V 


9 

'u 

«4 


« ' 

4 '■ 


• V- 




fi 


•| >*r 

f * . , 

'- ■ ■ ■T' 


* » 


. 4 


/ , 


tI “V ?•'’'• V” ‘ ^ ^ i 

r^, I- ■/ ^•’ ' is^Vi *- ? 

kS ' i* • ’' ^Cr**^ “ '. 


i 

4 . 


. V 

. ► 




I V 


^V“ 

%* 

I 


* • 


« 

f. 




- k 


N '- N ,* 

S::; 





- 


■ 'I ' 


4 




» i 


i 


» • '. 

■ 4 


■i - 


•* « 

w**; r 


*.\--- -r 
•V • 


• * 




If^ 




•> 


4* 'V* . 



*A< 


,XQ t. 




^;v 

jA>vtv^;r. • 

' i '•/m' '- * ^ 

) - . . 


% 


' 1 * 

/•i. \ 


i 




.'V 


V > 

U. 


•4 


V- 


/ 


4 * 4 


^ • 


_ ^ • 1 ’ '*'j 

’ k r: .i " 




t • 
> 


.,>- • 

V. ^ 


. ^ < 


•it' 


^ * . _ 






*A ^ 'A . '* • • - *■ 

• , * ‘ *'✓ iJv' ' • ’ ' - ' 



t--? 

• a 


I.' 

« 

4 1 . 


• • 





»• 


- k'l ■• ^ 


I % 


•\ . 
’ ' I ' 


'•t'*-; -.‘^' Wt ’i» - -y> 

.»j *■; •■ .^^ 7 < 4 ^ 


’ » • 

' * * 4 « /r 



. 4 :y, 

-44^ 

^ , Ay* ^'Ii' 
■• ■'■ '- 2 ^% '■■vi-' 

■f,^,'^: ■ i> ..?'■. ■*: r ' ,- 




'^V 
•c* ■• 





. , » 


«. - * »■/ 1 
r.'S ?w 

•' ' V 

' v::«^,v:v:.. ^ 


*-, 1 ^ 

# ^ -v.v 


#Av »■* 






.aP*. 

r». 


« V 


r^ - ^ \f'> »“ • j • 




OUR RADICALS 


CHAPTER I. 

“ By Jove, how it blows! The heavy cavalry will have a rough 
passage to-uight.” 

These words issued from the lips of a young officer dressed in a 
dragoon uniform. He was engaged in a game of billiards in the 
Harnston barracks with a companion. The latter was a stout man 
in the prime of life. He had taken off his mess-jacket, and, with 
braces loosened to give him the more ease, he was leaning forward 
to make a spot stroke. 

“ Yes,” was the reply. “ I hope, when we sail for India, the ele- 
ments will be more propitious. ” 

Several other officers of the 21st Dragoon Guards were watching 
the game. One of them, a tall, well-built man, was chaffing the 
players. He was a senior captain of the regiment, and of an old 
West Country family. The baronetage of the Digbys went back for 
many generations. Sir Richard Digby, the present possessor of the 
title, had been for several years in the army. He was not much 
liked by many of his brother officers, on account of his assertive dis- 
position. 

“ There you go again, doctor,” he remarked; “ your ffgure getting 
in the way of the pocket. I have laid two pounds to one on you, 
and never will I back such an obese mortal again.” 

“You will lose more than that, Dick, in your bet with Arthur 
Belper,” replied Dr. Allenby, not at all pleased at the allusion made 
to the size of his waist. 

“ What bet is that?” asked one of the company. 

“ Why, Digby has bet Belper £500, even money, that he (Belper) 
will be married in ten years, and Arthur, who is a most determined 


12 


OUR RADICALS. 


woman-hater, has offered to double the amount; but Dick funks, 
and won’t have it.” 

“ Of course not,” said the baronet; “ why should 1 make Arthur 
more resolved to remain a bachelor than he is at present?” 

“I don’t think you will,” said another of the company; “but 
here comes Arthur — let us hear what he has to say to it.” 

As these words were uttered Arthur Belper entered the billiard- 
room. 

He was above the middle height, and well-built; his age apparent- 
ly about seven-and-twenty. His complexion had become brown by 
frequent exposure to the air, and a pair of large blue eyes lit up a 
singularly handsome countenance. Yet at times a sad expression 
would pass over his face. He would seem to be bored, not only by 
himself, but by everything around him. He had been in one of 
these moods when Digby had joked him as to his having some se- 
cret passion, and in an unguarded moment he had bet Digby an even 
£500 that he would not be married in ten years. 

The bet made some little commotion at the time. Several dowa- 
gers in Belgravia, with marriageable daughters to dispose of, were 
furious with the baronet. Arthur Belper, besides being of a singular- 
ly affectionate disposition, was the possessor of a considerable fortune. 

While engaged in out-door pursuits no trace of sadness could be 
seen on his features; but when he was alone, and for a time unoccu- 
pied, his gloomy fits would take possession of him. What were 
they produced by? some of his elder brother officers would ask 
themselves. Was there a taint of hereditary insanity in his family? 
for, indeed, it was rumored that Arthur’s grandfather had commit- 
ted suicide. At any rate, Belper, liked as he was by his comrades, 
was nevertheless an enigma to them. 

If any one understood him, perhaps it was Digby, the captain of 
his troop, who, hated as he was by many men in the regiment, was 
on excellent terms with his sub 9 ,ltern. 

Never were two people so different in character, yet between them 
there was a strong bond of sympathy. Was it that each one divined 
the other’s secret? For most men have some skeleton which they 
try to hide from the world, and sometimes from themselves, by 
an affectation of cynicism. An impossible task, indeed, for the 
canker remains, and fixes its roots more firmly in the heart and 
brain, for all the efforts made to obliterate it from the recollection. 


OUIl RADICALS. 


13 


“ They are discussing our bet,” said Sir Richard, holding out his 
hand to Bclper — “ but you are wet from head to foot,” 

“ So would you be if you had taken a header into the Thames, 
and had not had time to change.” 

“ How did you get your ducking?” asked one of the officers. 

“Oh, simply enough. I was driving over Putney Bridge, when 
a man deliberately pushed a boy over the parapet into the water, 
and then ran for his life. I don’t know exactly what happened af- 
terwards; but somehow I found myself in the river, swimming for 
my life with the little fellow under my arm. It was rather dark 
when I reached the bank, and, as there was no one to be seen, I 
brought the boy here.” 

“ Where is he?” they all inquired, 

“In my room. I oi’dered my servant to put him in a warm bath. 
Come and see.” 

With these words he led the way out of the billiard-room into 
some quarters tenanted by himself and his captain. There, in a 
large hip-bath, a gigantic dragoon was washing a lad, who, to judge 
by his appearance, might have been thirteen or fourteen years of age. 

“Ah, sir! and I am glad you have come here,” said Belper’s ser- 
vant to his master. “When I speak to him, he answers in gibberish. 

I don’t understand one word he says.” 

And Bruce, Arthur’s jidus Achates, continued scrubbing the boy, 
and rubbing him down with a rough towel, hissing all the while very 
much as if he were grooming one of his master’s chargers. 

“Stop, or you will hurt him!” said Belper, laughing. “I only 
wanted you to bring back his circulation. Put the lad on the sofa 
and cover him with blankets. Presently I will find out who he is; 
in the meantime get me a change of clothes.” 

Alf the officers, except Digby, soon returned to the billiard-room, 
and Belper commenced undressing. 

Sir Richard, sitting down in an arm-chair, helped himself to a ci- 
gar from a box that stood near him. 

“ Why, Arthur,” he remarked, “ here you are saddled with a child . 
already!” 

“Well,” replied Belper, “if I cannot discover his relations I cer- 
tainly shall not turn the boy into the streets.” 

“You do not mean to say that you would adopt him,” said Sir 
Richard, laughing. 


I 


14 OUR RADICALS. 

“Perhaps not; hut I would pay Bruce’s wife to look after the lad, 
and would see myself that he was properly educated.” 

“How old should you say he is?” 

“Twelve or thirteen, perhaps; ask him.” Digby rose, and went 
to the sofa, addressing the boy. To his surprise he did not answer 
in English, but in French. 

"“You have rescued some French street arab,” said the baronet; 
“and yet he does not look or speak like one. Come here, Arthur. 
You are a better French scholar than I am; ask him yourself about 
his history.” 

Belper approached the sofa. The boy’s eyes glistened at the sight 
of his rescuer. 

“Who are you?” said Arthur; “and who is the man who pushed 
you into the water?” 

The lad’s face darkened, and he put his hands before his eyes, as if 
to avoid seeing some horrible apparition. 

“ Don’t be afraid,” said Arthur, kindly. “You are quite safe with 
us. Tell me all you know about yourself.” 

The little fellow looked for a moment anxiously around the room, 
and then spoke. 

“A short time ago,” he said, “I was very happy. People were 
kind to me. I was in a school in France. One day I was told that 
my father wanted to see me. I had never seen my parents, at least 
not to my recollection. I was taken into a little room; there I saw 
a man, the same one who pushed me into the water. ‘ I am your 
father, Eugene,’ he said; ‘I have come to take you to a beautiful 
house. You will have a pony to ride, and nice companions to play 
with. ’ I felt sure he was not my father, so I said, ‘ I have companions 
here, and will not go with you.’ And I wanted to run away from 
him ; but the old lady we used to call madame said, ‘ Eugene, you 
must not be disrespectful to your father. He brought you here 
when you were a little boy, and paid for you ever since.’ No one 
interfered ; and I was made to go down-stairs, and get into a carriage. 
The man gave me something to drink, and I went to sleep. When I 
awoke, I was very ill, and on a ship at sea. After some days we ar- 
rived in a large town. I was taken to a house — I resisted going, and 
called out, but no one could understand me. This afternoon I was 
told that I was to see my real parents. When we were on the bridge, 
the man t^aid^ ‘ Eugene, get up here, and I will show you where your 


OUR RADICALS. 


15 


fathen lives.’ I climbed on the parapet, and he said, ‘ Look straight 
before you.’ And he then gave me a push. I fell into the water, 
and I remember nothing more. ” 

With these words the boy left off speaking, and began to cry bit- 
terly. 

“ We are no nearer than we were before as to who he is,” said Sir 
Richard. Do you know Metrale, the head of the police?” 

“No.” 

“Well, I will give you a line to him. He is an extremely able 
man, and a friend of mine. Go to his house to-morrow, and tell him 
what has occurred. He may be able to put two and two together, 
and advise as to what course to pursue.” 

Sir Richard Digby lit another of Belper’s cigars, and left the room 
to join the billiard-players. 


CHAPTER II. 

Seventeen thousand three hundred and forty-five pounds eleven 
shillings and sevenpence three farthings. That is their exact value, 
sir; at all events, the value for which the diamonds were insured. 
Then there are the bank-notes and shares. I think in all I might 
• put the loss down at forty-seven thousand pounds. 

The speaker. Inspector Jumbleton, was a man of stunted growth, 
and about fifty years of age. His head was thinly covered with red 
hair, and his eyes, which were very small and close together, gave 
him a somewhat ferret-like appearance. He was giving to Mr. 
Metrale, the head of the police, an account of a robbery that had been 
perpetrated a few days before at a post-office in London. The rob- 
bery had made a considerable sensation, owing to the daring manner 
in which it had been effected. A woman entered a central office and 
asked for a receipt to a registered letter. The mail-bags were lying 
on the ground by the counter. A few minutes after her departure 
the mail-cart driver came for the bags, and on being informed of their 
contents was struck by their lightness. On examination it was dis- 
covered that they were not the original sacks, but were imitation 
ones, which she had left in the place of the real bags she had carried 
away beneath her cloak. 

“Always a woman, sir, in these matters, ’’said Inspector Jumble- 


16 


OUR RADICALS. 


ton ; ‘ ‘ they walk round us just as they choose. If I were at the head 
of the government I would have a detective department managed by 
women. Why, where their own sex is concerned, they are ten times 
as sharp as we are. ‘ Set a woman to catch a woman, ’ said Mrs. 
Jumbleton to me.” 

The inspector was considered quite a privileged character in Har- 
ley Street, where Mr. Metrale lived. He was one of the sharpest de- 
tectives in the force, not so much, perhaps, on account of his own in- 
nate shrewdness as on account of the smartness of his wife. Mrs. 
Jumbleton took the greatest interest in her husband’s business. He 
always consulted her whenever he was engaged in endeavoring to 
unravel some criminal mystery; and on several occasions her clear 
powers of perception — which enabled her, like many of her sex, to 
jump to a conclusion — had given him the identical clew which led to 
the detection of the delinquent. 

IVIetrale was well aware of Mrs. Jumbleton’s intelligence. When 
the inspector first married, his chief was a little alarmed, lest in a 
moment of amativeness Jumbleton might be indiscreet, and let out 
important secrets connected with the department, which, owing to 
his steadiness, Jumbleton had been intrusted with. 

But if he had, they never came back to Metrale’s ears, and on 
several occasions when Mrs. Jumbleton had gone to him, and offered 
her assistance in watching certain suspected persons, he had been 
much struck by her zeal and ability. Metrale’s office was no sine- 
cure. It had been started about three years, upon the principles of 
the Continental system. Metrale was forty-seven when the appoint- 
ment was offered him, and now, although only fifty years of age, he 
was quite gray. A face furrowed with wrinkles gave evident signs 
of constant anxiety and overwork. 

Nothing could happen in town without Metrale being aware of it. 
Several robberies had recently occurred on an extensive scale. The 
thieves had carried their audacity so far as to effect an entrance into 
Buckingham Palace, during the court ball, and had there plied their 
profession successfully, having cut several diamonds of enormous 
value from a Begum’s dress, and even stolen some ornaments from 
the person of one of the royal family. 

Then there were the daring Fenian plots. Several explosions had 
taken place in the military barracks, and other public buildings had 
to be watched day and night. 


OUR RADICALS. 


17 


Over and above these things, there were the persons of the minis- 
ters to guard, Lord O’Hagan Harton, the lord chancellor, having 
been fired at on one or two occasions. The noble lord, who was not 
very particular as to the feelings of others, was highly sensitive when- 
ever his own personal comfort and security were concerned. Me- 
trale constantly received telegrams from him as to anonymous letters 
of a threatening character which the lord chancellor had received, 
and recently the minister had ordered a telephone to be constructed 
between his own house and that of the chief of police. He was thus 
able to inform Metrale as to his intended movements. The other 
members of the cabinet had been similarly threatened, but few of 
them lived in such a continual state of apprehension as Lord O’Hagan 
Harton. 

Several attempts had been made on the prime-minister’s life. On 
one occasion a torpedo had been discovered in his cellar; on another 
he had narrowly escaped being poisoned. An Irish cook in his ser- 
vice, a woman affiliated with a branch of the Fenians, had put a 
deadly drug into a dressed lobster, for which delicacy Mr. Cum- 
bermore had a great partiality. Fortunately for the prime-minis- 
ter, on this particular occasion he did not partake of his favorite dish. 

All these matters naturally caused Mr. Metrale great anxiety. He 
felt that he was responsible for the safety of the members of the 
government, and of the community at large, but the money allowed 
him for his department was limited. The ministers required such a 
large number of police as a bodyguard that there were hardly any 
officials left to look after the interests of the public. 

It was while he was considering with Inspector Jumbleton as to 
what plan to adopt for the discovery of the perpetrators of the post- 
office robbery that a tap was heard at the door. 

“ Come in,” said Metrale. 

A policeman in plain clothes entered, and gave Mr. Metrale a card 
and a letter. 

“You can go now, Jumbleton. I will see you again presently,” 
said Mr. Metrale. “ Show the gentleman in,” he added, addressing 
the bearer of the card and letter. 

Helper was announced, and entered the room. 

“I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Helper,” said 
Metrale. “Sir Richard Digby has often mentioned your name to 
me. Hut you require my services, I see by this letter.” 

2 


18 


OUK RADICALS. 


After Bel per had told him of the adventure of the previous day 
the chief of the police remained for some minutes buried in deep 
thought, 

“I should like to see the boy,” he remarked, at length. ' “Is he 
with you?” 

“ Yes, I thought you might like to speak to him. He is in my 
brougham below.” 

Metrale touched an electric bell twice. Jumbleton entered. 

“There is a lad in this gentleman’s carriage; bring him here.” 

“He only speaks French,” said Belper; “perhaps he will not 
understand.” 

“Our inspectors speak French and German, and Jumbleton 
speaks Russian as well,” said Metrale. 

In a few minutes Jumbleton returned, leading Eugene by the 
hand. 

“He is a fine boy,” said Metrale to Belper, and then addressed 
Eugene in French. 

“ Should you know the man again Who brought you from France, 
and who pushed you into the river?” 

- “Yes,” answered Eugene, and an angry expression passed over 
the boy’s face. 

Metrale then spoke a few words in an undertone to the inspector. 
The latter left the room, but shortly returned with some large 
albums. 

“Now,” said Metrale, “what was the color of the man’s hair, 
and how old should you think he was?” 

“His hair was black, and he seemed about as old— as old as you, 
sir.” 

“Ah, about fifty, and with dark hair; now as to his height. Was 
he as tall as I am?” 

Eugene stood up by Mr. Metrale’s side, at the same time putting 
his hand above his own head, and indicating by that means the 
height of the man. 

“Did he speak French well?” 

“No; I could hardly understand him,” said Eugene. 

“Now, Jumbleton,” said Mr. Metrale. “The albums of Irish- 
men above forty years of age.” 

The inspector produced an enormous volume. 

“There,” said Metrale to Eugene, “take this book into the other 


OUR RADICALS. 


19 


room. If you see any photograph at all like the man who brought 
you to England, come and show me. ” 

“What should you say was the man’s object in trying to drown 
the child?” said Belper, as Eugene left the room.. 

' “One of two things— either to obtain money from some person 
who wished him out of the way, or to gratify a revengeful feeling. 
You have no idea how many children have’been stolen from parents 
of late years. It is a plan of the Fenians to extort money, or politi- 
cal support in Parliament. In one case the body of a little girl 
was found at her mother’s door. It is a deplorable state of things. 
There is only one way to stamp out secret societies, and that is by 
force; but then that, you know, the prime - minister says is no 
remedy. If the Fenians have had a hand in this case, I am power- 
less.” 

The inspector returned at this moment with Eugene. He had 
seen a photograph that was very like the man. 

“ Did he limp as he walked?” asked Metrale, 

V A little,” was the reply. 

“I fear my conjecture is right,” said Metrale; “this child is not 
born of humble parents. ” 

“But he is French,” said Belper. “Surely the Fenians could 
bear no grudge against our neighbors across the water.” 

“Who can tell?” said Metrale. “There is evidently some mys- 
tery; if you will leave it in my hands •! will endeavor to unravel it. 
In the meantime, what are you going to do with the boy?” 

“Take him into my service and educate him,” said Belper, laugh- 
ing. “ As I have saved his life, I feel I am in a good measure re- 
sponsible for it. ” 

“Well, he will be safe with you in barracks,” said Metrale. 
“ Good-morning.” 

‘ ‘ Good-morning, Mr. Metrale, and many thanks for the interest 
you take in the matter,” said Belper, as he left the room with his 
'protege. “Metrale may -be right,” thought Belper, as they were 
seated in the brougham; “there is evidently some mystery about 
his parentage. Anyhow, he shall come to no harm while he is 
with me.” ' 


20 


OUR RADICALS. 


CHAPTER III. 

There were several broughams standing outside 172 Arlington 
Street one wet Sunday afternoon. The coachmen were grumbling 
at the time they were exposed to the inclemency of the weather. 

Lady Tryington was always at home to her friends on Sunday 
afternoon. She had quite a clientele of men who made a point of 
calling on hei upon that day. 

Lady Tryington did not care much about receiving her own sex ; 
she thought that their presence might be a check on the freedom of 
conversation. But on this particular afternoon her two nieces, 
Laura and Blanche Tryington, were with her. 

Laura Tryington was an extremely beautiful girl. It was said 
that she was an express image of what Lady Tryington had been in 
her younger days. She was considerably above the middle height, 
and possessed a very graceful figure. Her face was not the Anglo- 
, Saxon type. A glance would have shown that there was foreign 
blood in Lady Tryington’s niece. Her grandmother was a Greek by 
birth, and Laura, with her flashing eyes, finely-chiselled nose, and 
small but determined mouth and chin, might have passed for a beau- 
tiful Athenian. 

Blanclie, on the other hand, although as many declared equally 
beautiful, was below the middle height, and very fair. She was 
about two years younger than her cousin, who had just passed her 
twenty-first year. Both the Misses Tryington had received offers of 
marriage, but so far no man had succeeded in gaining their favor; 
and Lady Tryington, who had been married at the age of eighteen, 
was beginning to be a little anxious as to the matrimonial future of 
her nieces. , 

“And so, my dear Laura will not marry,” said the old Duke of 
Beaulieu, his palsied hand shaking like an aspen leaf, as he put 
down his cup. 

“No, duke; not even you, if you made the offer,” replied Lady 
Tryington. “It makes me very anxious.” 

. “After all/' said Sir Richard Digby to his aunt, “Laura is wise in 


OUR RADICALS. 


21 . 


her generation ; why should she he in a hurry to leave this home, so 
full of elegance and comfort, to marry a man who might turn out 
indifferently?” 

“You don’t, then, think highly of your sex?” said Lady Trying- 
ton. 

“ No, nor of yours either, aunt. We both build upon ideals; we 
picture to ourselves the person we love as having every perfec- 
tion, and the end is, generally speaking, deception and disappoint- 
ment.” 

“Sir Richard talks as if from experience,” said Lord O’Hagan 
Harton. 

“Digby’s only experiences have been with the Turks and Cir- 
cassians,” exclaimed Horace Deloony, laughing. 

Horace Deloony was an old diplomate. Some years previous he 
had left the Foreign Office. He now made a business of society, and 
had developed into a perambulating journal of all the scandals that 
had happened and were going to happen. Nothing, in his opinion, 
could go on successfully without his presence. He was of Irish 
descent, and to no ordinary abilities he added a complete mastery of 
the art of repartee. 

“Horace, you must have been a gi’eat lady-killer in your day,” 
said Sir Richard Digby. 

“ Lady-killer!” exclaimed the duke “He was a dreadful dog!’’ 

“The result being that he is now a discontented, bilious old 
bachelor.” 

These. words fell from the lips of Mrs. Ryder, the wife of an edi- 
tor of a powerful society journal. 

She was always welcomed by Lady Tryington, because, from her 
husband’s connection with the press, she had the opportunity of 
bearing the latest news to the tea-table of her patroness. 

“ If anything were to happen to Ryder, I would propose to you at 
once,” said Horace Deloony. 

“ No ; that I protest against, ” said the duke, emphatically. “ You 
are ill-natured enough in conversation ; as the proprietor of a news- 
paper you would be unbearable.” 

The wife of the editor smiled. She was rather amused at this 
banter; it gave her an idea of her own importance. Although her- 
self of excellent family, she would not have dreamed a few years 
back of being the tried and trusted friend of Lady Tryington. 


22 


OUR RADICALS, 


But things had changed vastly of late. The editors of society 
papers had become too powerful for society to ignore. The names 
of its more prominent members were inserted continually, and their 
actions freely discussed. The majority of people, much as they en- 
joy hearing scandal about others, do not at all appreciate it when it 
affects themselves. Some of the editors had gone so far as to have 
their own secret police. Husbands and wives found that they lived 
under a microscopic observation, ‘ Mr. Ryder was not so modest as 
many of his contemporary editors ; he was known to be a firm friend, 
but a very bitter foe. As most people preferred to have him on their 
side, Mrs. Ryder found herself admitted into the best society. 

“By the way,” she said, turning to Sir Richard Digby, “I have 
heard of your bet with Belper. Will you win it?” 

“Upon my word, for the last four days I have been somewhat 
alarmed, ” answered Sir Richard. “Arthur has saved a child from 
drowning, and now that he means to adopt it, my chance of winning 
the £500 is considerably lessened.” 

“How did the accident occur?” said his aunt. 

And Digby then gave an account of Helper’s adventure, 

“How very curious and romantic!” said Mrs. Ryder, rising from 
her chair to say good-bye to Lady Tryington. 

“There she goes, to tell her husband to announce it in his pa- 
per,” said Lord O’Hagan Harton. “What a bore these paper peo- 
ple are!” 

“But you used to write yourself,” said Horace Deloony; “and 
people say that even now you write out all your speeches, and give 
each editor the amount he requires.” 

' “People say a good many things, Mr. Deloony,” said Lord O’Ha- 
gan Harton, haughtily. “If Ananias. were to return to the earth he 
would find himself heavily handicapped in the society of to-day.” 

“Of course, I do not move in the same sphere as you do,” said 
Horace Deloony; “but people will talk, and if they have no better 
subject they will talk about you,” 

Lord O’Hagan Harton rose from his seat, and bowing to Lady Try- 
ington, took his departure. 

“There, you have made an enemy for life,” Lady Tryington 
said, as Lord O’Hagan Harton’s brougham drove away from the 
door. 

“I am quite indifferent to that,” said Deloony; “my contempt 


OUR RADICALS. 


for him as an enemy is only equalled by my contempt for him as a 
statesman.” 

“How bitter you are, ” answered Lady Tryington. “People say 
we women say spiteful things, but we are nowhere with a diplomate 
or a cabinet minister,” 

“I hope, Dick, Mr. Belper has not caught cold after his immer- 
sion,” said Blanche Tryington, who had been conversing at the oth- 
er end of the room with her cousin during the late passage of 
words. 

“No, I think not,” replied Sir Kichard. 

“ And so your friend has sworn, like Benedick, to die a bachelor,” 
said Laura Tryington. “Whenever a man swears that, like Bene- 
dick, he is sure to live long enough to eat his words.” 

“ And he is really too nice to die so uninteresting a death,” added 
Blanche. 

“ Really!” said Sir Richard, “ if Belper could hear you say that, I 
might even yet win my bet. ” 

Lady Tryington’s guests left early that afternoon. She took up a 
copy of the paper edited by Mr, Ryder, and was engaged in reading 
an article, when her footman entered the room with a card, which 
his mistress glanced carelessly at. 

Suddenly her countenance betrayed the interest she felt in the per- 
son announced. 

“ What! le Capitaine Victor Delange. Show him in at once.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

Lady Tryington had made the acquaintance of M. le Capitaine 
Victor Delange ten years ago in Paris. He had just been appointed 
as military attache to his embassy. Knowing that his old friend 
Lady Tryington was a leader of society, and acquainted with every- 
thing appertaining to the political world, he took the earliest oppor- 
tunity of calling upon her, 

“ So delighted to see you once more. Monsieur le Capitaine,” said 
Lady Tryington in French. “ It is an age since we met, I had just 
seen your appointment announced, I am so pleased that it enables 
us to renew our friendship.” 


24 


OUR RADICALS. 


“My first visit is to you,” said Victor Delange. “ I said to my- 
self, who can tell me everything about everybody in London; who 
can post me up in society? Who, only Lady Tryington. So here 
I am.” 

“ Well, first of all, you will have a cup of tea. And now, what do 
you want to know? About the last scandal, or the new religion; 
about the elopement, or the wedding; about the births, or the deaths; 
or about politics, M. le Capitaine? I am at your disposal; command 
me, and I obey.” 

“A thousand thanks! it is so kind of you; but, my dear Lady 
Tryington, if you remember you told me, when I last saw you, about 
all the troubles that Mr. Gladstone, your prime-minister, had brought 
on his country, and how he had reduced the rents on your Irish es- 
tate. Now, we Frenchmen seldom speak English, and our news- 
papers are badly informed as to English matters, so do tell me brief- 
ly what has happened in your country. You know my profession, 
purely a military one ; but it does not seem well for me, although 
a foreigner, to apptar ignorant of what every one knows.” 

“ It will not take me long,” said Lady Tryington. “You remem- 
ber that I could get no rents from my Irish estates, and that my 
agents and bailiffs had been murdered. ” 

“Yes; and the horrible assassination of the government officials, 
and the secret compact with the murderers.” 

“The people at last became disgusted with the government. 
They clamored for a general election, and they had one.” 

“And what happened after the general election?” inquired Vic- 
tor Delange. “The old prime - minister was defeated, was he 
hot?” 

“ Yes,” continued Lady Tryington. “ The Whig families, who 
had learned that the policy of their chief was one calculated to 
seriously affect the landed interest at home, and to make England 
ridiculous in the eyes of foreign powers, used their influence for the 
Conservative cause. We then had a coalition or Liberal-Conserva- 
tive government. I then sold my Irish estates at twenty years’ 
purchase, although some time before I had received an offer of 
thirty- three years; but with all that I am better off than the unfort- 
unate loyalists who would not sell their estates, and now receive no~ 
rents at all. Well, we enjoyed a few years of comfort and peace 
imder the coalition gavernment, but our trade suddenly' received a 


OUR RADICALS. 


25 


terrible check. The fact was that the United States had paid off 
their debt and had fostered their manufactures by their protective 
duties to such an extent that they could undersell England in her 
own markets, as she had abandoned a protective policy, and become 
a free-trade country. Our hardware districts were deluged with 
cheap American goods. Men were thrown out of employment 
everywhere. At last a cry arose for protection. 

“And the ministers?” inquired Victor Delange. 

“ Refused to give it. They believed in the principles of so-called 
free trade, which I believe to be an imposition.” 

“ Certainement, oui” said the French attache, who, however, had 
hardly followed all the remarks of his hostess, but who considered 
it polite to assent. 

“ The Radical party was at that time led by a man of consider- 
able ahility. He had made a large fortune many years previous in 
the pork business in Chicago, Mr. Jonas Cumbermore watched his 
opportunity. Radicalism was at that time completely severed from 
the ties which once bound it to moderate Liberalism. Mr. Jonas 
Cumbermore determined to roast both Conservative and Liberal in 
the fires of their free-trade principles. Apparently oblivious to the 
opinions he had formerly publicly "expressed upon the question, he 
resolved that the Radical party should go in for protection. An- 
other general election took place. The agriculturists, who had 
felt very acutely the force of foreign competition in corn and cattle, 
combined with the artisans and Irish against the ministers of the 
day. The result was the complete overthrow of the coalition gov- 
ernment. Our sovereign in vain looked for a premier from the 
Liberal and Conservative ranks. In the new House of Commons 
three fourths of the members were sworn followers of Mr. Jonas 
Cumbermore. It was a bitter pill for the monarchy to swallow, but 
there was no alternative. Mr. Jonas Cumbermore was summoned 
to Windsor. He was invited to form a cabinet. To this proposal 
he at once assented, and for the last eight months the affairs of our 
country have been entirely in the hands of the Revolutionary Rad- 
ical.” 

“That means something worse than a Communard,” said Victor 
Delange, “ does it not?” 

“ Far worse,” continued Lady Tryington; “ at least, that is what 
my friends the Conservatives say. But to resume. Our affairs 


26 


OUR RADICALS. 


have not prospered. You may remember how your nation resented 
the heavy duties imposed ^pon her manufactures?” 

“You ruined the trade of our people in Belleville in fancy goods,” 
said Victor Dclange; “it nearly brought about a revolution in 
Paris.” 

“Lastly,, to add to our misfortunes, the Irish— who some time 
previous were conceded local self-government, and who have passed 
laws calculated to drive every loyalist out of the country— are now 
clamoring to be annexed to the United States. You are aware, of 
course, that the Americans have recently largely increased their 
army and navy; but you will hardly believe that to-day there is a 
rumor that a large band of American filibusters are now on their 
way to aid Ireland in a revolt. To make matters worse, there is 
news that an insurrection has broken out in India, and my nephew’s 
regiment — the 21st Dragoon Guards — has been ordered to embark 
immediately. If you will dine here on Wednesda^^ you will meet 
him, and I have no doubt there will be many subjects upon which 
you will be mutually at home in conversation. ” 

Victor Delange took his leave of Lady Tryington, apologizing for 
so long a visit, and receiving an answer that the time had passed 
most pleasantly in his company 

“I must pay my homage to your beautiful niecea,”said Victor 
Delange, on leaving. 

“And you will dine with us on Wednesday.” 


CHAPTER V. 

It was midnight. The telegraph wires were busily at work in 
Metrale’s office; particularly those communicating with Downing 
Street. Several people were waiting in different rooms for an in- 
terview with the chief of police. At that moment the lord chan- 
cellor was conversing with Mr. Metrale in his office. 

“You say it really was to have taken place to-night?” 

“Yes,” answered Metrale. “I do not believe one of you could 
have escaped. ” 

The lord chancellor shuddered. Lord O’Hagan Harton’s dis- 
tress was occasioned by the discovery Metrale' had made, through 


OUR RADICALS. 


27 


one of his female detectives, that another attempt had been planned 
by the Fenians to destroy the members of the cabinet. 

“The Fenians are becoming more daring every day,” continued 
Mctrale. “Hitherto, as you know, they have made attempts to 
destroy buildings by putting dynamiter in the cellars, or against the 
walls. They have learned that we know most of these devices. 
They therefore changed their tactics, and hit upon the following 
plan. They determined to destroy Mr. Cumbermore’s house, not 
from below, but from above. It appears that there are some ex- 
plosives which ignite so rapidly that their effect is just as great in a 
downward as in an upward direction. This fact established, one 
of the Fenians obtained access to the roof of Mr. Cumbermore’s 
house, and placed fifty-pound weight of fulminating mercury on the 
slates, in a straight line above the room where a cabinet council 
was to be held. He connected his infernal machine with the tele- 
graph wire that runs over Belgrave Square, and tapped that same 
wire about two miles farther off, where it communicates with an- 
other building. His emissaries were on the watch to signal to him 
when the ministers arrived in Belgrave Square. His intentions 
were, after allowing you half an hour to settle down to business, to 
connect the wire of his battery, and explode the fulminating mer- 
cury. If this had been effected the whole building would have 
been razed to the ground.” 

“How did you detect the plot?” said the lord chancellor. 

“By the merest accident,” answered Metrale. “I had desired a 
female decoy, named Moloney, to ingratiate herself with O’Brien, a 
suspected Fenian. She did so successfully. O’Brien succumbed 
to Mrs. Moloney’s charms.” 

Here Lord O’Hagan Harton shrugged his shoulders contemptu- 
ously. 

' “You need not be surprised,” said Metrale, laughing. “Mrs. 
Moloney is an extremely well-proportioned woman, and O’Brien is 
not the first man who has fallen a victim to her attractions. The 
evening before last O’Brien took her to his rooms in the Strand. 
She saw some coils of wire lying about, and asked their use. At 
first O’Brien would not tell her. She managed, by those arts which 
a woman has the power to employ, supported by his belief that she 
was devoted to the Fenian cause, to get the secret of the plot from 
him. I learned the whole of it four hours before the explosion was 


OUR RADICALS. 


S8 

to have taken place, and I surrounded the house in the Strand, and 
succeeded in arresting three of the rebels, including Mrs. Moloney, 
whom I was obliged to take into custody for her own safety.” 

“Things are more serious than ever in Ireland,” said the lord 
chancellor. 

“Do you think,” said Mr. Metrale, “Mr. Cumbermore cares in 
his heart whether Ireland be annexed to the United States or not?” 

“Yes, I do,” answered Lord O’Hagan Harton. “If Ireland 
were to be annexed, there can be but little doubt that later on Eng- 
land would share Ireland’s fate. Now, Mr. Cumbermore is a very 
ambitious man; and if once the annexation took place, all dreams 
he may have formed as to his becoming all-powerful in this country 
will be at an end.” 

“ What with India and Ireland, he has his hands pretty full,” said 
Metrale.' ‘ ‘ The Irish are a terrible nuisance ; but this country has 
treated them like a spoiled child. If I had had money at. my dis- 
posal I could have picked up all the links of the chain of conspiracy 
years ago; but no, I am stinted on every hand, and am therefore 
unable to employ a secret service. Why, in France the police can 
spend reasonable sums, and no questions are asked; but here, if I 
were to prevent five hundred murders by spending £5000, in the 
first place, if I asked to be repaid I shouldn’t receive an answer; 
and in the second place, if I complained I should be removed from 
my post,” 

“It is a God-forsaken country, Metrale,” said Lord O’Hagau 
Harton, “but we must make it last out our time. I have sold out 
everything almost that I possessed here, and have invested my 
money in Australia and the United States. My child shall have 
something to live upon, at all events.” 

“ No other country in the world would tolerate such a state of 
things,” continued Metrale, who had now thoroughly warmed up 
upon his favorite grievance, “and the more particularly as these 
secret societies could be suppressed, even now, at the eleventh hour. 
Treat Ireland as Cromwell treated her, and give me the means of 
buying information.” 

“Cromwell was. a great man,” said the lord chancellor, “but 
there were no penny and halfpenny newspapers in his time. By 
the way, have you had all precautions taken for our future safety?” 

“ You can rest satisfied, my lord,” said Metrale. “ No expense 


OUR RADICALS. 


29 


has been spared to insure your safety and that of all the members 
of the cabinet.” 

And the lord chancellor went away, uneasy but reassured. 


CHAPTER VI. 

It was a lovely afternoon. Blanche and Laura Tryington were 
at Hurlingham with Sir Richard Digby. All the world had gone to 
this popular place of entertainment. The great match of the season 
was to be played between Digby’s regiment and the London garri- 
son. There may be room for doubt as to whether many of the 
thousands of people present cared much for polo, or, indeed, under- 
stood anything about the game ; but it had been duly announced in 
the papers, Mr. Ryder’s especially, that royalty would be present. 
In spite of the levelling tendency of the age, royalty was as safe to 
call together a large number of people as usual. 

The House of Lords had been repeatedly ridiculed by Mr, Jonas 
Cumbermore, and royalty itself had been threatened with extinc- 
tion; but the fact that it had been menaced made it, if anything, 
more popular, and Mr. Cumbermore had come to the conclusion 
that the time for establishing a republic in Great Britain had not 
yet arrived. This was undoubtedly due, in a great measure, to the 
personal popularity of the sovereign, for caucuses had been hard 
at work for several years past, endeavoring to undermine the loyalty 
of the people. Tracts had been scattered broadcast in the hardware 
district, showing how much the throne had cost the country. One 
Mr. Buttertongue had made a calculation of the amount expended 
by sovereigns of England since the days of the Conquest. He had 
shown that this sum, if put out at compound interest, would have 
paid off the national debt of every country on the globe, and in ad- 
dition have left a balance that would, if invested at three per cent., 
have given every man, woman, and child in Meltingborough three 
shillings per diem for life. 

This attack upon royalty, coming shortly after the abolition of 
perpetual pensions and the reduction of the retired allowances for 
officers in the army, had not the desired effect. The masses were 
more loyal than they had been before. ' 


30 


OUll RADlCiiLS. 


But to resume. Hurlingham was crowded. All the cabinet min- 
isters’ wives and daughters were present. A tent was set apart for 
the friends of officers competing in the match, and here Sir Richard 
Digby found a place for the ladies of his party. 

“I am afraid you will see very little of the polo,” observed Sir 
Richard to Lady Tryington. 

“ Polo, Dick!” exclaimed Lady Tryington; "do you think I came 
to see polo?” 

" Well, that was the idea I had in my mind.” 

"Nothing of the kind,” said Lady Tryington. "I came here 
with Blanche and Laura for them to see, and be seen, especially the 
latter. Is not that your friend Mr. Belper,” she continued, "who is 
talking with the Duke of Cumberland?” 

His royal highness had known Belper for several years, and was 
at the time congratulating him upon his rescue of the little boy, an 
embellished account of which he had read in Ryder’s journal. 

"What do you mean to do with him?” inquired the prince. 

"I have been trying, sir, to find his parents, but have failed. 
Metrale has not yet obtained any clew to guide him in the search.” 

"There is apparently some mystery,” said the prince. 

" There is Metrale talking to Mrs. Cumbermore,” continued Belper. 
" I cannot help thinking that he knows more about the matter than 
he cares to acknowledge.” 

"Perhaps,” answered the prince; "see, they are expecting you to 
mount.” 

Belper was in the act of leaving the enclosure, when his eye fell 
upon Lady Tryington and her two nieces, He rode up and cordially 
welcomed them. Lady Tryington was very civil to him, for she had 
taken in the importance of the fact that he was on such good terms 
with the Duke of Cumberland. Since that conversation he had risen 
fifty per cent, in Lady Tryington’s estimation. 

Blanche soon attracted Belper’s attention. To-day she looked 
more beautiful than usual, he thought, as their eyes met and she put 
out her little gloved hand, reminding him, as she stood bathed in the 
golden stream of the sun’s rays, of one of Murillo’s Madonnas, which 
lie had seen in the Museo at Madrid. While they were conversing 
a tremendous rush of people occurred close to the enclosure. 

"It is only a rush of people eager to see the prince,” said Bel- 
per, 


OUR RADICALS. 


31 


“Now Mrs. Cumbermore will arise for the occasion,” said Sir 
Richard Digby ; “ for, in spite of her husband’s opinions, she is never 
so happy as when royalty favors her with an arm.” 

“I suppose you consider that a proof of the fickleness of our sex,” 
said Lady Tryington. ' 

“ Only towards husbands,” said Sir Richard, laughing. 

“ What a beautiful rose that is you are wearing!” Belper was say- 
ing to Blanche Tryington; “it reminds me of the one that Lothair" 
gave to Lady Corisande. There was a great meaning hidden in that 
simple gift.” 

“ If this one would bring you good luck to-day you are welcome 
to it,” said Blanche Tryington, blushing as she gave the young offi- 
cer the rose. 

“Not to-day only, but always,” he answered, gallantly, as he rode 
off, looking “ the brightest knight that ever waved a lance.” 

“I wonder what brings Lord O’llagan Harton here?” said Lady 
Tryington. “I had no idea he cared about polo.” 

“Probably not,” said Sir Richard Digby; “but the same reason 
that brought you may have brought him.” 

“And he is talking to the Duke of Cumberland,” added Lady 
Tryington. “See, he is whispering in the duke’s ear some state 
secret, no doubt.” 

“More likely some epigram which he has studied and learned by 
heart, to produce upon this occasion,” said Deloony, who was one 
of the party. 

“How bitter you are towards him,” observed Lady Tryington. 
“I shall reall}'^ begin to think you have been crossed by him in some 
affair of the heart.” 

Blanche all this time was leaning over the rails, eagerly watching 
the game. She could see that Belper was gradually obtaining pos- 
session of the ball, and driving it out of the reach of his opponents. 

“Capital!” said Sir Richard Digby. “Arthur is playing splen- 
didly; we shall win the match.” 

“Look,” observed Laura, “he does not notice the man on the op- 
posite side. See, he is about to charge him.” 

Warned by a friendly shout, the young officer turned his head, but 
too late to avoid the collision. The two ponies had come together, 
and Belper was thrown to the ground. One foot was caught in the 
stirrup-iron, and the pony, frightened and excited, dashed across the 


83 


OUK RADICALS. 


ground, dragging Belper with him. Blanche had turned deadly pale, 
and, if it had not been for Metrale, who was standing near and rushed 
to her assistance, she would have fallen to the ground. Sir Richard 
Dighy returned to the ladies. He, with others, had succeeded in 
catching the pony. Belper had been stunned, and was being attended 
to by a surgeon. Blanche now opened her eyes, and, endeavoring 
to regain self-possession, rose from her chair. 

“Do not move,” said the baronet. “I will have your aunt’s 
carriage brought round here, and will take Belper back in my 
brougham.” 

“I hope he is not seriously hurt,” she said. 

“No, not seriously,” answered Sir Richard Digby; and, assisting 
her to rise, he placed her in Lady Tryington’s carriage, and then re- 
joined his brother officer. 

Dr. Planselle was in the act of binding up Belper’s head, which 
had been cut open by the pony’s hoofs. 

“Very fortunate that I was here!” the medical gentleman was re- 
marking. ‘ ‘ V ery fortunate. ” 

“I’ll bet you two to one he will make a point of telling us the 
wound is exactly like one received in a similar accident by the Duke 
of Cumberland,” whispered Deloony to Metrale. “Old Planselle 
dearly loves to air his acquaintance with royalty.” 

“Done!” said Metrale, laughing. .“In half-crowns; but I shall 
lose. See, Ryder is approaching. ” 

“Ah! glad to see you here, doctor,” said Ryder, pushing his way 
through the crowd. “ Nothing serious, I hope.” 

“Nothing immediately serious,” replied the medical gentleman. 
“Perfect rest, perfect rest, my dear sir; as I said not long ago to his 
royal highness the Duke of Cumberland, after an accident on the ice, 
when I was called in. Rest, perfect rest, is all that is required. The 
IMarchioness of Colleonic, when she fell from her horse in the Row, 
was another instance of the value of perfect rest.” 

“He will go through the entire peerage if you do not interfere,” 
said Metrale to Digby; and an officer, raising Arthur in his arms, car- 
ried him, with the assistance of the doctor, to his carriage. 

“I will call to-morrow morning to see him, on my way from the 
Duchess of Montreal.” 

And Dr. Planselle left them to drive away, while he walked home 
with Mr. Ryder, who managed to eke out of the physician every 


OUR RADICALS. 


particular of the accident for publication in the next issue of the 
Scrawler. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Dr. Planselle was sitting by Arthur’s bedside. Digby rested 
on the other side of the couch, and Eugene was holding a tray on 
which had been placed a medicine-bottle and a wine-glass. 

“Really,” said the doctor, leaving his patient for a moment and 
turning to the little lad, “I think your protege wants my services 
more than you do yourself, he is so pale with watching. In ten days 
you may leave your room, Belper, and in two months you may go 
back to your regiment.” 

“Not before two months!” exclaimed Belper. “Why, we are 
under orders for India, and may sail at any time.” 

“Not for India,” interrupted Sir Richard Digby, “I met the 
adjutant-general in Pall Mall a few hours ago. He told me it was 
more likely we should be sent to^ Ireland. Things there, it appears, 
are worse than ever. Five thousand Fenians from America landed 
yesterday, and the whole country has taken up arms.” 

A tap was heard at the door, and Eugene went into the passage, 
and returned with a card. 

It was from Lady Tryington, to inquire after Mr. Belper, and to 
ask if Sir Richard Digby was with him. 

“I will go down and see her,” said Digby. 

Lady Tryington was in a great state of excitement. The doctor 
had ordered Blanche immediate change of air. It was the middle 
of the season, and Laura did not like leaving town; however, as 
Blanche’s life was at stake. Lady Tryington had determined to fall 
in with the physician’s advice. He had recommended a voyage in 
a sailing-vessel. Lady Tryington remembered that her nephew had 
a large yacht. He had lately wished to part with his vessel, and 
had mentioned the fact to his aunt. She determined to find out 
whether he would sell the ship to her, and she accordingly broached 
the subject. 

“ Certainly not, my dear aunt; but you are quite welcome to the 
yacht as often and as long as you choose to use it. The crew are 
in her.” 

3 

, ■ \ 


34 


OUR RADICALS. 


Now, Lady Tryington, although well off in this world’s estate, 
was not rich. It had already occurred to her that the purchase of 
a yacht would entail a considerable outlay. She was, therefore, 
highly pleased with her nephew’s offer, and, after thanking him many 
times for his kindness, accepted his proposal. 

“ And how is Mr. Belper to-day?” 

“ Much better; he will be out very soon. But when do you start 
and where do you propose going?’" 

“As soon as the ship is ready to receive us, and the doctor recom- 
mends the Mediterranean. It will be a complete change for poor, 
dear Blanche. And Laura is looking fagged, after all her balls; I 
am sure it will do her good too. Good-bye, now; I have to pay 
some visits.” 

When Digby returned to the room he found the doctor gone, and 
Arthur busily engaged in the perusal of a letter. It, was from Me- 
trale, informing Belper of the dangerous nature of the Fenian con- 
spiracy, and hinting that the Irish leaders might have some object 
to gain in killing Eugene, at the same time recommending him to 
guard the boy very closely. . 

‘ ‘ I have heard rumors of this new form of tyranny, but never 
attached much credence to it,” said Digby. 

“ Well,” said Arthur, “ if there is one place where he will be safe 
more than another, it is in barracks or with the regiment.” 

“Why not enlist him as a drummer?” inquired Digby. 

“He has been too well educated, and I have determined to look 
after him myself,” said Arthur, emphatically. 

“I often wonder how it is you have never married,” Sir Richard 
Digby said, after a long pause, during which Belper had fallen into 
a light sleep. “You would make a model husband.” 

A shade of sadness passed over Belper’s face. 

“ It is a matter of duty that I should remain unmarried. You do 
not understand me.” 

“No; explain.” 

“It is a family curse,” said Belper. 

“You are suffering from the effects of your fall,” said Sir Rich- 
ard ; “let us talk of something else. ” 

“ No, Dick; I am not delirious, as you imagine. I am perfectly 
calm.” 

“ Well, then?” 


OUR RADICALS. 


35 


“You will readily understand, when I tell you there is insanity in 
niy family. It misses one or two generations, only to appear with 
redoubled force in the second or third. Why should I perpetuate, 
as in all probability I should, this fearful malady? I am the last of 
my race. Let it die with me.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

It was a wet and windy day. To make matters worse, a thick 
fog hung along the side of the Thames Embankment. It threw an 
impenetrable darkness over the houses in that neighborhood. Few 
people were in the streets, and those who could be seen by the aid 
of the lamps were, judging from their appearance, compelled to be 
out more as a matter of necessity than from any other cause. 

One man, rather better dressed than the others, was hurriedly 
walking down a narrow street which led from the river to the Strand. 
He looked behind him as he crossed the road, and more than once 
he stopped, and listened carefully to hear if he were being followed. 
Not a footfall fell. A dead stillness reigned around. To make as- 
surance doubly sure, he turned and retraced his steps for about a 
hundred yards. Not a soul was to be seen. Even the woman who 
kept a coffee-stall at the corner of the street, thinking probably that 
on such an afternoon she would have no customers, had betaken 
herself to a neighboring public-house. 

“None of Metrale’s men 'are about,” said the man to himself; 
“and now to metamorphose myself.” 

He then proceeded to tear off a false gray wig and beard, at the 
same time removing a pair of spectacles from his nose. Before this 
had been done he might have passed for a man of sixty years of age, 
but now no one would have put him down as being more than thir- 
ty. To complete the transformation, he took off his coat, and, hav- 
ing turned it inside out, put it on again. The inner lining was of 
a grayish hue, and made of a cloth material, so that the coat present- 
ed no unusual appearance in being worn in this manner. 

Turning on his heel, Barry proceeded slowly along the street until 
he came to the Embankment. Presently he saw, a little in front of him, 
a man dressed exactly as he himself had been a few minutes before. 


86 


OUR RADICALS. 


A woman was walking a few yards behind the man, shabbily dressed, 
but as she passed under the light of the lamps it was easy to see that 
she was young and very handsome. Barry coughed twice as a sort of 
signal, crossed the street, and proceeded in another direction. 

“ What idiots these detectives are 1” he thought. “ Here Metrale, 
for the last three months, has been on the track of my double, little 
thinking that the real Barry is at work on a plan to set all London 
in a blaze.” 

Presently he arrived at a semi-detached, dilapidated- looking build- 
ing, used apparently for storing wood. 

An announcement on the door informed the public that coffins on 
the most approved pattern could be supplied at wholesale prices by 
Messrs. Davies & Bailey. A tall wooden mast protruded from the 
roof of the building. To this were attached some fifty different 
telegraph wires, which extended to various parts of the metropolis. 

Nothing in the old house itself would have attracted the attention 
of a bystander, save that it had a deserted and dismal aspect. Barry, 
taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, selected the one which 
opened the door of this house. 

Proceeding a few yards down the hall, he touched a spring in the 
wall, which opened a door the size of an ordinary brick. Taking 
two india-rubber tubes from his pocket, he screwed them into the 
sides of the aperture, and then placed the two ends to his ears. He 
had improvised a telephone, there being a concealed wire which 
reached from the door to the mast, and which was in communica- 
tion with the lines that passed over the building. 

“ Anything stirring near the Tower?” he inquired. 

A clear and distinct voice answered in the negative. 

“ Near Buckingham Palace?” 

“No.” 

“Near the War Office?’ 

“ Yes,’' the voice answered. 

“ Good,” answered Barry; “ in an hour at the usual place.” 

Pressing the spring the door flew back again, and only a person 
initiated into the secret could have discovered its whereabouts. 

Placing the tubes again in his pocket, he left the house and con- 
tinued his walk, this time in the direction of Victoria Station. 

Just by the Grosvenor Hotel he was accosted by a woman who 
appeared to be begging alms of the passers-by. 


OUR RADICALS. 


37 


“ Take this,” said Barry, passing a coin into her hand. 

She at once rose from her recumbent position and crossed the 
street. On reaching the other side she gave some signal to Barry, 
who followed her course on the opposite side of the road. Suddenly 
she stopped, and, looking round once to see if she were followed, dis- 
appeared down the area steps of a house. 

Barry crossed the street. By the time he had reached the oppo- 
site pavement the front door of the house was opened, and Barry, 
without any hesitation, entered the portico, the door closing behind 
him. 

“ Here I am, ” said a woman’s voice. The woman struck a match 
into a flame as she spoke. “ This way.” And Barry followed her 
up one flight of stairs and entered a room. “Wait one moment,” 
she said; “ I will get rid of these clothes.” 

She entered an adjoining room, and in a few minutes returned to 
Barry. 

No one, not even Barry himself, would have recognized in the 
well-dressed young man of twenty-two years, who now entered the 
room, the tattered hag who had asked alms of the passers-by. 

“Capital!” said Barry, laughing. “ Metrale thinks his women- 
detectives wonderfully clever, but they are children, compared with 
ours, Maggie.” 

“ Where are you going to-night?” said the other. 

“ To Metrale’s. He has a party in Harley street. Several cabi- 
net ministers will be there, and not a few diplomates. I know the 
French military attache, from meeting him at my club. He thinks 
I am a Canadian, and it is with him I am going. O’Hagan Harton 
and Mr. Cumbermore will be there.” 

“A nicely arranged programme, to be turned to some good, I 
doubt not,” answered the other. 

“Yes; I mean to take a run through the thieves’ quarters with 
one of Metrale’s men. You may happen to discover one or two in- 
formers.” 

“ Have you heard anything more of Eugene?” 

“ He is still with Belper; but his uncle, who has learned the fate 
w^e had prepared for the boy, ignores our threats. He received an 
anonymous letter the day after the event, telling him to look in 
the Scrawler, and he would learn how nearly Eugene’s life had paid 
for his opposition to our cause. ” 


38 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ It is a pity Eugene’s mother is dead,” was the answer. “It is 
tlie soft hearts of the women we should work upon. If she were 
alive, and believed her son in danger of death by fire, we might 
count upon the old lord’s influence against us being at an end.” 

“ Leave a woman to break a woman’s heart,” thought Barry, as he 
parted from his accomplice. 

Barry mounted to the attic of the house. He placed a hand-lad- 
der under a window in the centre of the ceiling. With some little 
difficulty he succeeded in opening the shutter and climbing on to 
the roof. He cautiously made his way along the housetops for 
some distance, crawling where the slanting roof precluded the pos- 
sibility of standing on his feet, and at times steadying himself against 
a chimney. In less than ten minutes he reached a house that had, 
to all appearances, been recently constructed. Approaching a win- 
dow, with as little noise as possible, he looked through the glass. 
Several people were in a room below. After scanning their counte- 
nances for a few minutes, Barry tapped three times on the slates. In 
answer to the signal a ladder was drawn from one side of the garret 
wall and placed under the window. In a few seconds Barry had 
descended by the ladder into the room. 

“You are all here?” he inquired. 

“ No, master; Maggie is missing.” 

“ I have seen her, Mike,” Barry replied; “ she has her orders. I 
have some serious business to report to-night. Be seated. You 
know that our plan to destroy Mr. Cumbermore’s house failed, and 
that several of our men are in custody; but one thing I think you 
have yet to learn — how Metrale discovered our plot. A traitor has 
been in our midst,” he continued, sternly. “He sold us, not for 
gold, but for a woman’s embraces; for a thing as fickle as public 
opinion in this country, which lauds a man to the skies in one mo- 
ment, and hoots him down without a hearing in the next.” 

“ Who is the traitor?” exclaimed two or three, fiercely. 

“ Ay, tell us the traitor’s name!” shouted Mike Lambish. 

“ It is useless at present to let you know,” said Barry. “ He suf- 
fers with*the rest in prison; perhaps he may divulge more of our 
plans that we have confided to him. I mention the fact to put you 
on your guard, and to remind you of the oaths you took as members 
of this association, that the most fearful death the ingenuity of man 
can devise shall be the punishment of all who betray their associates.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


39 


Barry now turned to his lieutenant. 

“ Have you,’* he said, “executed my orders?” 

“ Yes,” was the reply; “ all but one. We have been unable as 
yet to recapture Eugene.” 

“ That should not be a difficult task,” said Barry. 

“What report have you to make of Mr. Cumbermore, Michael ?” 
he continued, addressing another of the circle. 

“That he is not to be reached through the affections, sir. He 
loves neither woman nor child more than himself.” 

“ When do the steamers start for Dublin with English reinforce- 
ments?” 

“To-morrow evening,” answered another, who had been ordered 
to investigate the subject. 

“ How did you obtain your information?” said the chief. 

“ Through a woman in the telegraph office; but not to rely solely 
on a woman’s word, I have corroborated her statement by tapping 
the wire, and reading the return message which passed an hour ago 
from the colonel of the 31st Dragoon Guards to the War Office. The 
City of Borne will take the troops.” 

“Are any of our people among the crew?” 

“ Only one; he is below, if you would like to see him.” 

“Bring him here,” said the chief, at the same time placing a black 
mask on his face, the other conspirators following his example. 

The man was brought in. 

“You know the value of your oath?” said the Fenian leader to 
him. 

“Yes,” replied the man, seemingly much alarmed. 

“You sail in the City of Borne to-morrow.” 

“Yes,” answered the man, timidly; “but you do not wish any 
one else poisoned?” 

• “No,” said Barry; “on this occasion I shall be satisfied if you 
will take with you as kitchen lad during the passage a young fellow 
in whom I am interested.” 

“No more deaths, 1 trust!” said the man, shivering. 

“Silence, fool! if it be necessary to wade knee-deep in English 
blood we must do so for Ireland’s sake.” 

“Ireland forever!” shouted all the Fenians; and the cook, led 
away by the enthusiasm of the moment, joined feebly in the cry. 

He was a mulatto, and had been a cook in Dublin for some years, 


40 


OUR RADICALS. 


where he had become affiliated to the Fenian association. He was 
of a cowardly disposition, and wheif aware of his fate if he betrayed 
his comrades, he had been easily induced to obey the orders of his 
chiefs. A few months before this meeting he had received instruc- 
tions to poison the chief secretary for Ireland, in whose household 
he was employed. The official, however, did not fall into the trap 
set for him, but his unfortunate wife had done so, and had died in 
great agony. The mulatto, at once suspected, had been able to 
clear himself from the accusation, and an innocent man suffered in 
his place. This crime placed the wretched mulatto more in the 
Fenians’ power than he had been before. 

“There are no further orders for to-day,” said Barry, to his other 
followers; and, turning once more to the cook, he added: “Remem- 
ber, you expect a kitchen lad on board the City of Borne; he will 
give you the password. Now go.” 

Soon afterwards the conspirators separated, several of them mak- 
ing their exit by the roof, and taking the course their chief had 
done before. Barry waited a few minutes after his followers had 
departed. Lifting up a plank in the floor, he took from beneath it 
some attire that from its appearance seemed at one time to have be- 
longed to a stone-mason. Rapidly dressing himself in these gar- 
ments, he descended the staircase and walked out into the street 
below. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A NUMBER of carriages were blocking the way in Harley Street. 
Some of the footmen, by the strange cockades they wore, were evi- 
dently servants of foreigners. Linkmen were busy calling up 
broughams, and making way for their owners to pass through the 
crowd that blocked the entrance to Mr. Metrale’s house. It was the 
first time that season that the chief of the police had thrown open 
his salon. Almost every well-known man in London had received 
an invitation. Ambassadors jostled with actors; the head of the fire 
brigade with the commander-in-chief ; the Archbishop of Canterbury 
with Mr. Bullneck, the infidel; professors of philosophy with high- 
ehurch curates; authors with artists. • 

It was a strange assembly. 


OUR RADICALS. 


41 


Metrale’s parties were considered to be the most entertaining of 
their kind in London. “Smoke and talk” were printed on the 
cards of invitation that he sent out, and talk his guests did on e very- 
conceivable topic, and helped themselves to the choicest regalias, 
which were ever at hand. Down-stairs, in a large supper-room, a 
light but substantial repast was always upon the table. The attrac- 
tions above were, however, greater than to allow of justice being 
done to the viands. 

A well-known actor began to recite a short but excellent piece. 
The burst of applause which followed his effort was a proof of its 
favorable reception. 

Two young men were standing close to the performer. One of 
them wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honor in his coat. As Metrale 
advanced to meet the actor, this gentleman moved forward, and 
shaking the chief of the police by the hand, asked to be allowed to 
introduce his friend Mr. Monier Ballard, a Canadian gentleman. 

“ Certainly — with pleasure.” 

And the chief of the Fenians was presented to the chief of the 
police. 

“I have come to study your interesting customs,” said Monier 
Ballard. 

“In any way that I can assist you in your study, I shall be 
pleased.” 

“Thanks; I shall remind you of your promise.” 

“I will make a note of it, Mr. Ballard. Your address is?” 

“Alcibiades Club, Piccadilly.” . 

And with a pleasant bow, Mr. Metrale moved away to speak with 
other guests. 

Sir Richard Digby approached the Frenchman. 

“I am so pleased to meet you,” said the French attache. “I 
hardly know any one here, and yet I am acting as cicerone to my 
friend Mr. Monier Ballard. Let me present him to you.” 

“By all means,” said Digby. The introduction then took place. 

“Now,” said Victor Delange, “tell me what celebrities are here. 
That tall, pale, but somewhat stout gentleman, for instance : where 
have I met him?” 

“That is Ricardius, the president of the Alcibiades Club. He is 
quite a character, and is talking to Wild Thyne, the cynic of the 
period. Let us join them.” 


42 


OUR RADICALS. 


After an introduction of the two gentlemen to the party, Ricar- 
dius observed : 

“We were having an extremely illuminating discussion. It will 
be interesting, M. Victor, to hear your opinion on the subject.” 

“Two to one the question is about the women,” said Deloony, 
coming up at the time. 

“You are right,” said Wild Thyne. “They bring us into the 
world, cause most of our misfortunes in it, and kill more of us than 
diseases and doctors together. Ricardius wishes to have women ad- 
mitted into the Alcibiades. ” 

“Only divorced and unmarried women,” said Ricardius. 

“ I tell him,” continued Wild Thyne, “we shall all be set by the 
ears in less than a week, if his idea is carried into effect. They will 
want representatives on the committee, and will blackball, perhaps, 
the most agreeable men.” 

“Yet you are for women sitting at Westminster,” said Digby. 
“If that principle is correct, why should you object to them in your 
club?” 

“I will tell you,” answered Wild Thyne* “I admire a beautiful 
creature who ie for woman’s rights, and I flatter her by taking up 
the question. I know it will never be carried, so what harm is 
done.” 

“ Then you believe in the tender passion?” said Digby. 

“No, only in self-interest. Metrale does not love any of us, but 
we make his parties go pleasantly. He invites you and me. We 
eat his oysters and drink his Pommery. Reciprocity of interest. 
Do you think Lord O’Hagan Harton cares two oyster-shells for Me- 
trale, or Metrale for him? No. The lord chancellor values his per- 
sonal safety, and if he honors Metrale by his presence here, more 
care is used to guard him from the Fenians. Metrale, again, hopes 
for an increase of salary out of the taxpayers through the minister. 
Wheels within wheels. Reciprocity of interest, gentlemen ; nothing 
more.” 

With these concluding words Wild Thyne turned on his heel and 
walked to another part of the room. 

“A queer character,” said Deloony, laughing. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Ryder, who had heard the last words of Wild 
Thyne ; “as Diogenes was vain of his tub, so he is proud of his 
cynicism.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


43 


“He is a good-hearted fellow,” added Digby; “although he pre- 
fers to be credited with'half the crimes in the Newgate calendar 
rather than to hear one of his good actions repeated. ” 

Meantime Metrale,who had been walking among his guests, recog- 
nized Digby, and advanced towards him. 

“ So you sail to-morrow?” said Metrale. 

“Yes,’' replied the baronet. “We have only this afternoon re- 
ceived our orders, but I could not leave without coming here to 
thank you for your kindness to Belper.” 

“ I hope he is better.” 

“Yes; but he will not be able to move with the regiment. Eu- 
gene will go with his soldier servant to Dublin with Belper’s lug- 
gage.” 

“I congratulate you on going to the seat of war,” said Victor De- 
lange. 

“There is, I fear, little to congratulate us upon,” said Sir Rich- 
ard; “it is a miserable affair.” 

“The conspiracy should have been nipped in the bud,” said Me- 
trale. 

“Naturally,” added Sir Richard; “and if, before the leaders of 
the Irish steeped themselves to the lips in treason, martial law had 
been proclaimed, the Fenian movement would have been long ago 
at an end. Moreover, Ireland should have been temporarily de- 
prived of her members of Parliament.” 

“But would that have put an end to the secret societies?” said the 
Canadian. 

“ No,” said Metrale, “ nothing will put an end to them, save money 
and counter secret societies. But I have a plan which I think will 
be the means of destroying the traitors, ” and he turned once more to 
his other guests. 

The Duke of Beaulieu entered the room at that moment. lie had 
just returned from the House of Commons, where he had been lis- 
tening to an important debate. It had been brought on by Mr. Bull- 
neck, who had moved that, as England was a peace-loving nation, 
and as the inhabitants of India were now trying to retake from us 
what we had taken from them by force and treachery in the last 
century, it was expedient that British forces be immediately with- 
drawn from Ilindostan. 

“ You know,” said OTIagan Harton to Metrale, “ for a long time 


44 


OUR RADICALS. 


past there has been a cry that India costs us more than she brings us 
in ; not that this really is the case, but it was felt that it would be 
convenient to have an excuse for retiring to make way for Russia, 
who is always ready to advance. With Russia in possession of a 
railroad from the Caspian to Herat and Candahar, our position in 
India has been one of sufferance for some years past.” 

“What was the result of the debate?” said Metrale; “did they 
divide?” 

“Yes,” said the Duke of Beaulieu; “ and the curious part of the 
story has to come. You remember it was decided a few months 
ago that all voting in the House of Commons should be by ballot. 
Since then it has been extremely difficult for the whips to estimate 
what the majority would be. This evening Snapper, the whip, in- 
formed me that in all probability there would be a majority of fifty 
for Bullneck. Almost every one spoke in favor of the motion; but 
after the votes had been counted it was found that not more than 
twenty members were voting with Bullneck.” 

“The fact is,” said Lord O’Hagan Harton, “members are afraid 
of their constituencies, and vote in favor of measures of which they 
quite disapprove.” 

“Then India is not, to be given up?” said Sir Richard Digby. 

“Thank Heaven, there is stilLsome little patriotism left in the 
House!” said Metrale. 

“ Oh, we are going to the dogs as fast as we can!” said the duke. 

“ Any more news about Ireland?” asked Sir Richard Digby. 

“The old story. Only a few more women and children burned 
to death,” replied the lord chancellor; “and the Fenians are re- 
ported to have landed from America.” 

“ When will there be an end of it?” said Sir Richard Digby, de- 
spairingly. 

By this time the company had broken up into little knots for con- 
versation. The smoke was so thick that it was difficult to recognize 
any one across the room, and it enabled the Canadian gentleman to 
pass about unobserved, and gather from the fragments of conversa- 
tion some valuable information. 

He and Captain Victor Delange were almost the last to depart 
from a room which that evening had held beneath its roof repre- 
sentatives of art, science, literature, and politics, and even of Fenian- 
ism itseif 


OUR RADICALS. 


45 


CHAPTER X. 

Reveille had sounded at daybreak in the Harnston barracks. 
Everything was in preparation for an early march. A number of 
large vans, drawn by 'horses, were filled with the penates of the men 
and officers of the 21st Dragoon Guards. Soldiers in their shirt- 
sleeves were giving the last rub-down to their troop horses. Women i 
were trying to discover a spare place for some small piece of furni- 
ture they could not find it in their hearts to abandon ; and there was 
the usual apparent confusion which is to be seen in every barracks 
in the kingdom the last three hours before a regiment shifts its 
quarters. 

“I shall not be sorry when we are out of this,” said stout Dr. Al- 
lenby to his friend Tom Ostend. ‘ ‘ In the last half-hour I have been 
sent for to the orderly-room at least a dozen times. The married 
women and children give so much trouble. The adjutant says that 
these people are under my special charge, and that I must see in 
what order they leave their quarters, and that their rooms are left in 
a proper sanitary condition before we march.” 

“You will have old Titus down on you if you are not careful. 
He told me he intended going round the barracks himself. He is in 
one of his tantrums this morning; probably because her ladyship 
has announced her intention of embarking with him.” 

“If he bullies us,” said the doctor, “there is one consolation — he 
gets well bullied himself.” 

“The old man looked quite pleased,” said Ostend, “when he re- 
ceived the telegram ordering us to start at once for Dublin ; and did 
you see how his face fell when Lady Mulligan announced her inten- 
tion of accompanying him?” 

“There he is,” said the doctor, “in a fidget, as usual. He is 
gesticulating at the adjutant. I suppose I must go and look after 
those confounded women.” 

“And I to my troop stable,” added Captain Ostend. 

Sir Titus Mulligan, who commanded the 2l8t Dragoon Guards, 
was a short, slim man. His bronzed face and many medals showed 


46 


OUR RADICALS. 


that he had seen much service in many different parts of the globe. 
He was about forty-seven years of age, and was looked upon as a mar- 
tinet by his regiment. In private life he was agreeable and pleasant 
enough, but in barracks he was extremely strict. Before his mar- 
riage to Mrs. O’Donnell, a widow lady about four years younger 
than himself, he had been frequently on leave of absence for weeks 
at a time, leaving the management of the barracks in the hands of 
his second in command and his adjutant. But since his marriage, 
whether it was to escape from Lady Mulligan, or from some more 
chivalrous cause, he had hardly ever been out of the barrack-yard. 
The men were kept burnishing steel accoutrements from morning 
to night. 

Sir Titus had been quartered for some time in India, and he now 
found that the cold east winds of England were very trying to his 
liver. He had been hoping to receive instructions to embark his 
regiment for Hindostan, but the telegram from the War Office had 
countermanded the original orders, and he was forced to proceed to 
Ireland. To crown his misfortunes. Lady Mulligan, who never let 
him have a moment’s peace, and who was seldom out of the barracks, 
had announced her intention of accompanying him. India, he knew, 
would have been too remote a quarter of the globe for his wife ; but 
Dublin was quite another place, and there would, in all probability, 
be entertainments at the Local Self-Government Lodge of a sufficient- 
ly exclusive order to allow of her presence there. 

Just outside the barrack-gates stood a detached villa, which had 
been rented for six months by Sir Titus, and before the door of this 
residence stood three enormous vans filled with the household goods 
of Lady Mulligan. She was screaming in’ a high key from a window 
to some men engaged in packing boxes of glass and china, that they 
were not to economize their straw. 

Meanwhile her husband was striding round the barracks finding 
fault with his men for the most trivial things. 

“ Such things never occurred in my time, sir,” he was shouting to 
Captain Ostend. ‘ ‘ When I was subaltern there were no competi- 
tive examinations. We had not to learn Chaucer by heart, or digest 
Shakespeare; but we had to study cleanliness. Look at that horse! 
he has not been properly groomed ; put your finger on the animal’s 
shoulder. Not there, sir 1 Gad I the man doesn’t know his shoulder 
from his hoof.” . . 


OUR RADICALS. 


47 


“D — n it, there’s no pleasing him now!” said Captain Ostend, 
as the commander passed on. “If it were not for Adjutant Care- 
ful, who keeps him in some sort of bounds, I should have sent my 
papers in long ago.” 

Adjutant Careful was a very different man from his chief. He 
was the only officer in the regiment of whom Lady Mulligan stood 
in awe. Careful’s calm and phlegmatic manner had the effect of 
cold water on her gushing temperament. She did not fail to urge 
her husband to use his influence against Careful. His adjutant, 
however, gave him no opportunity to find any fault with the per- 
formance of his military duties. He knew his work quite as well, 
if not better, than his colonel, and was twice as popular as that officef 
in the regiment. 

The colonel had duly visited the stables, and was on the point of 
returning to the messroom, when Dr. Allenby appeared. 

“I have inspected all the married people’s quarters,” said the 
doctor. 

As the doctor was speaking an open carriage entered the barrack- 
yard, containing the colonel’s wife and her sister. 

“Dr. Allenby!” exclaimed Lady Mulligan. In spite of his cor- 
pulence, the doctor ran rather than walked to the barouche. 

Lady Mulligan graciously extended her hand. 

“Oh, Allenby,” she said, “it has occurred to me that I should 
like to look round the married people’s quarters.” 

“ I was just about to show the colonel over them, but he has gone 
away for a moment,” answered Dr. Allenby. 

“Oh, we need not wait for him,’’ said Lady Mulligan, “if you 
will accompany us.” 

The doctor did not hesitate. Lady Mulligan ruled Sir Titus, and 
Sir Titus ruled the regiment, so Lady Mulligan may have been said 
to rule them both. 

Great was the consternation among the soldiers’ wives when they 
saw her ladyship approaching. Many attempts were made to hide 
from her eagle-eye small heaps of rubbisli, broken glass, etc,, the ac- 
cumulation of the last six months. Among other rooms which more 
particularly offended the gaze of Lady Mulligan was one tenanted 
by Bruce’s wife. The poor woman had Eugene to attend to, and hei 
husband was busy looking after his master’s luggage, 

“ Very untidy,” said Lady Mulligan, as she entered; “and you, 


48 


OUR RADICALS. 


too, the wife of an officer’s servant! AVlio is the boy?” §^e added, 
pointing to Eugene, 

“He is Captain Helper’s, ray lady.” 

“ Captain Helper’s!” screamed Lady Mulligan; “the monster isn’t 
married.” 

“ Allow me to explain,” said Dr. Allenby. And the doctor told 
Lady Mulligan the circumstances of the case. > 

“ And so you are going to take him with you to Ireland?” said her 
ladyship. 

“Yes, my lady,” answered Mrs. Hruce; “that is, if the colonel — 
leastways, your ladyship — has no objection.” 

“He may go,” said Lady Mulligan, sweeping out of the room, and 
joined in the hall by Sir Titus. 

An hour later the trumpeter had sounded a general parade, and 
Sir Titus and his adjutant were riding by the ranks of the 21st. 

Her ladyship was giving some instructions to the bandmaster 
from her carriage- door. 

“What shall you play when you march out of the barracks?” she 
was saying. 

“ ‘ The girl I left behind me,’ my lady.” 

“Play something operatic and dignified,’’ said her ladyship. “ I 
will not have any cats’-meat tunes played by the band of the 21st 
Dragoon Guards.” 

Outside the barrack-gates hundreds of people had assembled, 
mostly the wives and children of the troopers, bewailing the loss of 
their relatives, for only a few married women were allowed to ac- 
company the regiment, 

“ If we were going to India they could not make more fuss,” said 
Lady Mulligan, contemptuously. 

As the regiment proceeded along the streets of London to the 
martial music, the cheering from the assembled crowds was tre- 
mendous. Mr. Cumbermore was riding in Hyde Park at the time. 
He rode up to Sir Titus, and had a few minutes’ conversation with 
him. The hurrahs of the bystanders were redoubled in vigor. To 
the Hritish public it seemed as if the young prime-minister had at 
last shaken himself free of the “ Peace-at-any-price ” party, and that 
he was really going to put his foot down, and settle the Irish ques- 
tion with the sword. The feeling against Ireland was intense in the 
metropolis. One of the first things the Irish had done when local 


OUR RADICALS. 


49 ' 


self-government had been conceded to them some years before, was 
to put heavy duties on manufactures and all articles of commerce 
coming from England. 

The English manufacturers and artisans who were for taxing 
foreign goods imported into England were indignant with the Irish 
for carrying out the same policy with reference to their own affairs. 
Nothing makes a peaceful Briton so irritable as to hit him in his 
pocket. The result was that the masses, which were previously in- 
different to the murder of Loyalists in Ireland, and who had made 
more fuss about an elephant which was taken from London to the 
United States than about the mutilation of human beings on the 
other side of St. George’s Channel, were now furious with the Irish 
people. 

Indeed, Mr. Cumbermore himself had stated that it would be an 
easy matter to get up an anti-Irish movement throughout England, 
and have Irishmen expelled from England, as the Jews were expelled 
from Russia. 

“Is it true, Mr. Cumbermore,” said Sir Richard Digby to that 
gentleman, who had joined the baronet on leaving Sir Titus — “Is it 
true that you may safely appeal to the passions and prejudices of 
Englishmen, but never to their reason?” 

“It would indeed appear so very often,” said Mr. Cumbermore. 
“Public opinion is, I fear, easily manufactured in this country. 
Just as the average juryman is first led one way by the counsel 
against the prisoner, then another by the delinquent’s advocate, and 
finally gives his verdict upon the judge’s remarks, so are the electors 
of Great Britain led by the nose. Some have a fetish they call Radi- 
calism, others Toryism. It would puzzle them sorely to give the 
reasons for their political faith. As for the remainder, they are 
in a ship without rudder or compass, at the mercy of every political 
gust of wind.” 

The troops arrived at the docks in time. The confusion at the 
barracks was nothing as compared with that which occurred at the 
jfiace of embarkation. Women were trying to smuggle themselves 
on board to go with their husbands; horses were kicking violently 
as they were lowered into the vessel ; officers and men were making 
desperate efforts to discover their respective berths; sailors were 
storing their ammunition; friends of the officers, who had been ad- 
mitted on board, were continually getting m the way of the crew, 
4 


60 


OUR RADICALS. 


and adding thus to the general confusion. Among the last to arrive 
was Mrs. Bruce, with Eugene. Tired and thoroughly worn out, she 
was in the act of going on board, when a young man accosted her, 
and, informing her that he was one of the crew, offered to assist in 
finding out what accommodation there was for her. 

“No, thank you,” she answered. “Wait a moment, Eugene,” 
she added, addressing the boy.” 

“Eugene!” murmured the young man; “this must be the boy.” 

The speaker was Maggie, who was on the vessel, endeavoring to 
carry out some orders received from Barry. 

Mrs. Bruce, who had been away for a minute to make some neces- 
sary inquiries, now returned, and led Eugene away. 

Among a group of men on the steerage side of the vessel was the 
Fenian mulatto. He did not recognize Maggie as she passed him 
in her disguise. She trod, however, rather heavily on the cook’s 
foot, who, in return, swore violently. In doing so, he remembered 
that it was connected with a preconcerted signal. When the deck 
was a little clear the mulatto joined Maggie. 

“Have you it here?” he said. 

“Yes, everything is in the basket,” answered Maggie. “Now 
show me the kitchen.” 

“ You look innocent enough in that garb,” said the mulatto, with 
a grin, as he led the way down the steps. 


CHAPTER XI. 

An unlooked-for incident occurred on board the City of Borne 
before the departure of the troops. Officers and men had succeeded 
in having their horses properly accommodated, and were lounging 
about the deck in small groups. Lady Miflligan was in a fury at 
the limited size of the cabin that had been provided for her; and 
her husband, finding himself in the way, was glad to escape on 
deck. Just as he reached the top of the cabin steps he started 
back as if he had seen an apparition, 

“Captain Belper — you here!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes,” said Belper, “I know I have disobeyed the doctor’s 
orders, but I could not let the ship sail without me. So here 

I amt” 


OUR RADICALS. 61 

“A gross piece of insubordination, sir!” said Sir Titus, fiercely. 
“If I did my duty I should place you under arrest.” 

With these words Sir Titus strode towards a group of oflScers, 
frowning ominously. They dispersed to carry out some orders he 
gave, with no very good grace. 

What a bore old Titus is!” said Ostend to Digby as he and his 
companion walked away. “He has just been giving it to poor 
Helper, simply because he disobeyed his doctor to be with his regi- 
ment.” 

“What, is Arthur on board?” said Digby, with surprise. “I 
had no idea of it. Where is his cabin?” 

“He is sharing mine,” answered Ostend. “I will show you the 
way. ” And the captain descended the stairs leading to the officers’ 
quarters. They found Helper lying in his berth. He was very 
pale, and rose with difficulty to greet his comrades. 

“It is too bad of you, my dear Arthur,” said Sir Richard. 
“Titus is a brute, we all know; but it is really very rash of you to 
risk your life in this way.” 

“I shall be better presently,” replied Arthur, who was looking 
very pale. “ I did not expect such a warm reception, and I am still 
weak.” 

“A knock came at the door. 

“Come in,” said Captain Ostend, and Eugene answered the sum- 
mons. 

Arthur’s face brightened up as he saw the lad. 

“Well, Eugene, how do you like being on board?” he said, kindly. 

“Very much, now you have come, sir,” answered the lad. 

Eugene had brought some hot water in a can, which Helper tried 
to lift, but the effort was too great, and he was obliged reluctantly 
to abandon the idea. 

“You are still weak, Arthur,” said Sir Richard, “and I shall be 
your nurse. Let me have your berth, Ostend, and you take mine. 
I have a cabin to myself.” 

Ostend readily assented, and left his two friends together, to seek 
his new quarters. The vessel by this time had weighed anchor. A 
thick mist covered the waters, and the lights of the passing boats 
could hardly be seen in the dense fog. All was still on the vessel, 
nothing being heard but the throbbing of the machinery or the 
voices of the men on watch. Hard by the engine-room two men 


63 


OUR RADICALS. 


were busily engaged in placing some plates and dishes in a cupboard. 
From time to time they ceased working, and convp’sed together in 
a low tone of voice. 

“ See, it looks like a piece of coal,” said the taller of the two, who 
was Maggie, the Fenian agent. “Only an experienced eye could 
distinguish the difference.” 

“There is one thing 1 do not see,” said the mulatto, her com- 
jianion. “You are going to destroy the ship, but how are we to 
escape?” 

“ Very easily,” replied the woman; “ but you are in a great fright 
about your precious life. You ought to be proud to die for Ireland, ” 

“What is Ireland to me?” said the mulatto, fiercely. “I gain 
nothing by all this.” 

“But you have a great deal to lose,” replied Maggie, sharply. 
“Your life, if you disobey my orders.” 

The mulatto put on a resigned look, but his eyes glistened as he 
saw a cleaver lying on the table by his side. 

“I know what is passing through your mind,” said Maggie, smil- 
ing. “You are thinking how easy it would be to murder me. It 
would not benefit you. Within twenty-four hours you must die.” 

“What do you mean?” asked the black, terror-stricken. 

“I gave* you a poison with your dinner,” answered the woman, 
“knowing you were a traitor. To that poison there is but one 
antidote, and that is in my possession; but not on my jiuerson,” she 
added, with a smile. “You cannot fight against us, you see — we are 
too strong for you. Here, I have some more of the poison. AVould 
you like to see how the drug does its deadly work?” 

There was a fowl in a coop hanging against the ship’s side. The 
woman took the bird, and, squeezing its neck, put some of the poi- 
son down its throat. 

“Watch the bird carefully,” she said, replacing the cage against 
the wall; “in two hours the bird will be dead; but in far less time 
you will realize from its condition the tortures you will undergo. 
The antidote I shall not give you till after the explosion. I am now 
going to sleep.” 

Curling herself up on a mattress in one corner, the Fenian emis- 
sary was soon buried in the most profound repose. 

The mulatto, however, tried in vain to sleep. From time to time 
he looked anxiously at the bird, and then at the sleeper, wondering 


OUR RADICALS. 


53 


in his mind whether she had lied to him to terrify him into compli- 
ance with her designs. It was a long time to wait in such fearful 
suspense. 

“Ih I were only sure,’’’ he murmured, “I would betray the plot 
to the captain.” 

He arose at last from the ground with this determination, when 
a slight scratching sound reached his ear. He turned his head 
towards the direction from whence it came. The bird was pecking 
violently at the bars of its cage. He went up to it. The hen was 
evidently in great pain. Not content with pecking at the frame- 
work, she was driving her talons deep into her flesh, and scattering 
her feathers in the act. Between each convulsion there would be 
but an interval of one minute. He could not remain looking at the 
fearful sight alone, so he went to the sleeper, and shook her. 

She smiled with satisfaction when she realized how completely 
she had the mulatto in her power. 

The bird was now unable to stand. The sounds became each 
moment fainter as she tried to reach the cage bars with her claws. 
Struggling from her recumbent position, she appeared for an instant, 
as it were, galvanized into life; then, fluttering her wings, she fell 
an inert mass on the floor of her prison. 

The mulatto looked as terrified as if he had been viewing his own 
death-struggles. 

“You have the antidote?” he gasped. 

“I will give it you five minutes after the explosion takes place. 
The means for our escape are ready. Can you swim?” 

“No.” 

“ It will not be necessary,” she replied, carelessly. “Here, in this 
bag, are two waterproof suits. After putting one of them on, all 
you have to do is to blow into the lining through an india-rubber 
funnel. The space below the outer and inner cloth becomes filled 
with air. You can float till doomsday. If you can, take a small 
paddle from the ship. The explosion will occur about twelve miles 
from the coast. It will be your own fault if you do not succeed in 
reaching the shore. ” 

“ How shall we get into the sea without being detected?” 

“Through the porthole by a rope,” answered Maggie. “If you 
have any difficulty in getting through with your dress inflated, you 
must not blow into it till you are on the rope itself.” 


54 


OUR RADICALS. 


Maggie went to the side of the ship, and looked out into the night. 
“There is no moon,” she said; “the Fates mean to favor us.” 


CHAPTER XIL 

Blanche Tryington was not at all sorry to hear that her aunt 
had determined to take her cousin and herself to the Mediterranean. 
She had been very ill since the day at Hurlingham when she had 
witnessed Captain Belper’s accident. Often, as she sat in her bou- 
doir at Arlington Street, had she catechised herself about the events 
of that day and the effect they had produced on her. 

Had she really a tender interest in the welfare of Captain Helper? 
or was it merely the effect produced upon her nerves by seeing a 
fellow-creature in such imminent peril? Did she love Arthur Hel- 
per? She admired him, it was true. He was handsome and brave, 
and truth was stamped upon his brow. She liked his society, she 
respected his qualities ; but between these sentiments and love — the 
love that a noble woman should have for her future husband — there 
was a great, though apparently only a passable, gulf. 

Who was to define love to her? Who could open a heart, of 
which she only possessed the key? Was she piqued, as women 
sometimes are, at the mere resolution of a man to defy the boy 
Cupid? She argued these and many other ideas in her mind, but 
could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. 

Even supposing that she instinctively felt there was no other man 
who could rouse such feelings in her breast as the young olficer, 
what right had she to encourage them, seeing that he had never 
shown the slightest predilection for her society in preference to that 
of any other person? He had chanced on one or two occasions to 
meet her at balls and dinners, and had ridden by her side in the 
park, and at such times had made himself more than agreeable, 
even to the saying of pretty sentences; but who of her acquaintance 
had not done the same? However, in spite of all these things, he 
was ever in her thoughts, and she was loath to put those thoughts 
away from her mind. But now she was going to visit new coun- 
tries, and would be free for a time from all the restraints of society. 
There would be no at-homes, no calls to make, no teas, no dinners, 
no balls; and would she not be better able, out on the great, blue 


OUH RADICALS. 


56 


Mediterranean, to put him out of her mind altogether? Alas, she 
felt there was no sea that could divide her from him in thought, no 
distance so great that it could divide her from him in spirit! 

It was with a feeling of satisfaction, however, that she found her- 
self with her aunt and cousin in a railway carriage on the way to 
Milford Haven. There they had arranged to meet Sir Richard Dig- 
by’s yacht, and embark for Cadiz, Seville, and Gibraltar, Laura 
was by no means in a good-humor at having to leave London before 
the expiration of the season. She had at last an object in life. Un- 
til now everything had bored her; but at last she had discovered 
some interest in existence, and that interest was centred in an ob- 
ject, and that object was to bring Arthur Belper to her feet. Not 
that she bore any affection for him, but merely because it amused 
her to do so, and, moreover, because she was determined that he 
should never marry her cousin Blanche. 

And, again, her views upon matrimony were not of a very elevated 
^order, though they may have been orthodox, and she considered 
Captain Belper a very fair matrimonial speculation. He was of a 
good family, and had at least £7000 a year; with only one draw- 
back, the fact that he had no title to confer upon his wife. She had 
not closed her eyes to the state of her cousin’s mind; and if she 
were able to achieve her purpose, she would by that means strike a 
mortal blow at Blanche’s happiness. Laura hated her cousin. Lady 
Tryington, she knew, would leave half her fortune to Blanche, and 
that would leave her a very inadequate sum with which to supply 
her extravagant demands. She was quite unaware of the fact that 
Belper was about to embark for Ireland, and was still under the im- 
pression that he was confined to his room. She had looked forward 
to meeting him in the park on his recovery, and had exercised her 
brains not a little in devising new schemes with which to succeed 
in captivating the heart of the young dragoon, But now she was 
dragged away from the scene of her possible triumphs, to gratify the 
whims of Lady Tryington and the fads of her niece. 

“Who ever heard of going to the Mediterranean in summer?” she 
had said, on hearing of the proposed voyage; “it would ruin the 
complexion of a negress.” 

Their journey so far at an end, the ladies found themselves at a 
comfortable hotel called “The Dorking.” The best apartments 
had been prepared for them, and a special waiter hired for the occa- 


56 


OUR RADICALS. 


sion. In the landlord’s opinion Lady Tryington was, to use his own 
expression, “ the nobbiest among the nobs,” and her visit to his ho- 
tel was an excellent advertisement for him. A waiter entered the 
room with a card upon a tray. “Mr. Walsh ” was written upon it, 
and underneath, “ The White Camellia,” that being the name of Sir 
Richard Digby’s yacht. 

“ Mr. Walsh,” said Lady Tryington; “that is the name of Dick’s 
captain. ” 

The captain of the White Camellia was announced. After receiv- 
ing her ladyship’s instructions, he withdrew to make the necessary 
arrangements for their reception on board the following day. The 
following morning broke cold and windy, but Lady Tryington was 
a woman of her word, and at five o’clock they were all on board the 
White Camellia. 

The vessel had been newly fitted up by Sir Richard Digby’s or- 
ders, and no expense had been spared to make the ladies’ cabins as lux- 
urious as possible. Flowers were placed everywhere in abundance, 
and with great taste, and an Erard piano, with a quantity of new 
music, was a conspicuous feature in the saloon. 

“How very thoughtful of Dick!” said Lady Tryington, with real 
pleasure, as they walked through the yacht. 

“When would your ladyship like to sail?” said the captain, ap- 
proaching them as they were curiously looking into the hold of the 
vessel. 

“ As soon as possible, please,” was the answer. 

“ The barometer is falling very fast, my lady.” 

“Never mind; we may as well get out to sea, ” answered Lady 
Tryington. 

Sir Richard Digby had given strict orders that Lady Tryington’s 
wishes were to be carried out in every respect. Walsh consequent- 
ly did not think of suggesting that it might be advisable to postpone 
the departure. An excellent dinner had been prepared on board, 
and shortly after their repast the ladies retired to their cabins for the 
night. Very early the following morning they were awakened by 
the sound of sailors running about on deck. 

The anchor was being weighed. An hour or two afterwards the 
yacht began to roll heavily. 

“ I thought we should catch it as soon as we got outside,” mur- 
mured Walsh to himself. “The barometer falls steadily.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


57 


Sir Richard Digby had engaged an experienced woman for the 
cruise in the person of a Mrs, Blenkinsop. She had crossed the At- 
lantic many times on board one of the vessels of the Cunard line, 
and had experienced all weathers. 

“We are having a very bad passage, but it will be smoother pres- 
ently,” said the worthy stewardess, tapping at Lady Tryington’s 
cabin-door. 

“We are caught in a gale, my lady,” she continued, as she re- 
ceived no answer; but you need not be alarmed.” 

The position of the yacht was more perilous than even Mrs. 
Blenkinsop imagined ; but she was under good hands, and all that 
could be done was being done. 

The captain had shortened sail; but the vessel, with almost bare 
masts, was scudding along at a great speed, driven by the wind and 
waves. An hour or more was passed in this predicament. To put 
into port was out of the question, the elements being too powerful. 
The only one who had thoroughly preserved her self-possession was 
the invalid, Blanche. Laura and Lady Tryington were confirmed in 
the opinion that their last hour had come. Lady Tryington slept, 
after a while, for some hours. When she awoke there was no long- 
er any need for anxiety — the wind had fallen. On deck. Captain 
Walsh was busily engaged in endeavoring to discover the damage 
his craft had received during the storm. She had shipped a quan- 
tity of water; but after a careful inspection the skipper came to the 
conclusion that there was no important leakage. However, one of 
masts had been destroyed, and the vessel had been severely strained. 
It was absolutely necessary to put into some port for repairs. The 
yacht had been driven out of her course, and it would be necessary, 
before proceeding, to rest for a few days, while she was being re- 
fitted. 

The sun was shining brightly in the heavens. There was hardly 
a ripple on the waters. Mrs. Blenkinsop had assured the ladies 
that now all danger was at an end. Lady Tryington and her nieces 
were persuaded to come on deck, and having seated themselves be- 
neath an awning, were watching the exertions of the crew, who 
were working with indefatigable energy. In the distance a noble- 
looking steamer could be seen ploughing her way through the sun- 
lit waters. Blanche was looking at this vessel with a field-glass 
which the captain had lent her. 


58 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ She does not seem to have suffered so much as our yacht in last 
night’s gale. ” 

As she said this she turned to gaze in another direction. An ex- 
clamation from her cousin attracted her attention. A strange com- 
motion appeared in the steamer. She seemed to have been sudden- 
ly upheaved, as if by a submarine convulsion. Her masts were 
reeling over in the air. Detached portions of the vessel seemed to 
be floating about at a distance from it. A blue and vaporous smoke 
was rising from the waves. Suddenly Captain Walsh was heard 
giving orders for the boats to be lowered. The sailors exercised 
every effort to get the boats into working order, and in a few min- 
utes they were leaving the yacht for the wreck. In a moment, the 
sinking ship disappeared beneath the waves, never to rise again. 
It was a race for life, and the sailors strained every nerve to reach 
the scene of the disaster in time to save their fellow-creatures. From 
the deck of the White Camellia Blanche could see the figures of sev- 
eral people holding convulsively to the spars and fragments of the 
wreck. The sailors, though worn out with the fatigues of the pre- 
vious night, still worked with a will, and with a determination 
worthy of the occasion. Laura had procured a large telescope from 
Sir Richard Digby’s cabin, and the captain had fitted it up for her 
on a stand. Through the powerful lenses the goal towards which 
the sailors were rowing could be distinctly seen. A spar had float- 
ed to a considerable distance from the other debris, and two people 
were holding on to this piece. In the meantime. Lady Tryington 
and Blanche had descended to the cabin to arrange for the recep- 
tion of the survivors. Mrs. Blenkinsop was carrying out their in- 
structions with great alacrity. The sailors were now rapidly ap- 
proaching the immediate scene of the disaster. 

“ Steady all!” shouted the man in command of the first boat. “I 
see two figures moving on our right.” 

A voice was heard calling for assistance. A few minutes after- 
wards two men were hoisted into the boat; one was dead, the other 
insensible. The boat was rowed forward. At a short distance 
some more of the steamer’s passengers were found, and were at once 
removed from the planks to which they were clinging. Three per- 
sons could be seen close at hand— one of them being a woman— and 
they were soon safe on board. In an hour, or a little more, the 
yacht’s boat was turning away from the catastrophe, and making 


OUR RADICALS. 


59 


towards the White Catnellia, with many survivors in the little craft. 
Hardy, the man in command, had heard that the lost steamer was 
called the City of Rome. As the boat reached the yacht. Lady Try- 
ington and her nieces were anxiously counting the number of peo- 
ple saved from the wreck. Alas! only seven had been rescued 
alive. An exclamation from Blanche, who had turned suddenly 
pale, attracted Lady Tryington’s attention. 

“What is it, my child?” she said, anxiously. 

“Oh, aunt!” exclaimed her niece. “Look, look! there is Dick, 
and Captain Belper; what— what does it mean? Oh! I must be 
dreaming. ” 

Blanche was not dreaming. There, true enough, was Sir Richard 
Digby, supporting Belper on his arm, and seated near to them were 
Mrs. Bruce and Eugene. The poor woman was in tears, for her 
husband had been lost in the wreck. She had only been saved her- 
self by the presence of mind displayed by Eugene, who immediately 
the explosion took place had seized two life-belts, one of which he 
had given to the woman. Sir Richard Digby had only been able to 
find one, and that he had placed round Belper, trusting himself to 
his strong arms for safety. 

A few hours afterwards. Sir Richard was sitting at dinner with his 
aunt and her nieces, giving them a detailed account of their mis- 
fortunes on board the City of Rome. 

“But how did it occur?” said Blanche, eagerly. 

“ We have that to learn yet,” answered Digby. “My impression 
was that a boiler had burst, but the explosion did not seem to me to 
have happened in that part of the ship. The moment it occurred, 
however, in poured the water to such an extent that it was imme- 
diately seen the pumps were useless. All the soldiers were on deck. 
By the colonel’s orders we called the roll. While that was being 
done the captain of the ship said, in an undertone, that the life-boats 
had been destroyed.” 

‘Attention!’ shouted the colonel. 

“You could have heard a pin drop, but for the rushing of the 
water into the ship. 

“ ‘Men of the 21st,’ said Sir Titus Mulligan, ‘our ship is going 
down. Die like men. Save the women if you can. If there be a ' 
survivor, let him be able to say that the 21st looked death in the 
face as readily as they have done a hundred times before.’ 


60 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ One cheer rose from the ranks as the colonel finished speaking. 
It sounded like a requiem over the dying. 

“ I cannot describe the confusion which ensued. Women rushing 
hither and thither in search of their husbands, willing to die only 
in their arms. Lady Mulligan was as calm and collected as her 
husband. The waters were now surrounding us, and I remember 
very little more with any certainty till I found myself in the waves, 
surrounded by hundreds struggling with death, from which so few 
of the brave fellows escajied.” 

Sir Eichard Digby drank a glass of wine to cover his einotion as 
he finished speaking. 

The survivors had been quartered in the cabins, and every atten- 
tion was being paid to their wants. 

Blanche remembered that night to pour out her heart in gratitude 
to Him who holds the waters in the hollow of his hand for the souls 
who had been saved that day from the wreck. Creeping quietly 
up on deck, after the others had retired for the night, she leaned 
over the side of the vessel, and looked out into the night. The 
moon was riding calmly over the peaceful waters, and casting its 
reflection on the dark-blue waves. 

A figure passed slowdy near her in the darkness, and descended 
the cabin steps. By the light of the moon she discerned the face 
and form of Arthur Belper. In his hand he held a rose, which he 
placed lightly and reverentially to his lips. It was the one she had 
given him at Hurlingham. He paused a moment before descend- 
ing the steps, and placed his fingers delicately among the faded petals. 

“ She gave me a rose,” he said, softly, to himself. “ Will she ever 
give me a still more precious gift?” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Maggie was one of the survivors. The explosion had taken place 
long before the hour upon which she had calculated. She had seen 
the horrors worked by her own remorseless hand, and such an effect 
had it produced on her mind that she would gladly have shared the 
fate of those who had been drowned. 

Arthur Belper suffered from a great depression, whieh lasted 
some days. He could scarcely realize that his brother officers, the 


OUR RADICALS. 


61 


men with whom he had passed so many happy years, had gone 
from his sight forever. 

The remembrance of the scene on deck, too, preyed upon his 
mind, and rendered him prostrate and delirious, 

Blanche slept very little on the night following the day of the 
disaster. The horrors of the shipwreck were too vividly imprinted 
on her mind. But with it all she was more grateful than words 
could express that Arthur Belper had been saved. She had heard, 
too, his avowal of love to the poor rose she had given him at Ilurling- 
ham, and she could no longer blind herself to the fact that his love 
was fully reciprocated by her. 

Laura had not given a second thought to the unfortunate crew of 
the City of Rome. She only realized that once more Arthur Belper 
was near her, and in a position where she would have every oppor- 
tunity of exercising all her powers of fascination. 

On the following morning, Digby, who was the first to appear on 
deck, found Walsh busily engaged in superintending some repairs 
to the vessel. 

“We had better put in at Holyhead, and have her refitted there,” 
said the skipper to his master. 

This seemed the wisest course to pursue, and Sir Richard gave in- 
structions accordingly. It was necessary, moreover, that he and Ar- 
thur Belper should present themselves to the authorities as soon as 
possible. They would both be required as witnesses before the 
court of inquiry which would be certain to be assembled to investi- 
gate the cause of the loss of the vessel. Again, they could the 
sooner be attached to some other regiment, for affairs in Ireland 
were very critical, and the baronet was aware that the arrival of the 
American contingent in Ireland was the prelude to a life-and-death 
struggle between the Celts and Saxons, 

While conversing with the skipper, the three ladies came on deck, 
accompanied by Captain Belper, He was still very ill and weak, 
and after some persuasion he was induced to return to the saloon 
and recline upon a sofa. 

Blanche looked anxiously at Sir Richard Digby as he returned 
from accompanying him. 

“ I wish,” said Digby, as if in answer to her mute appeal— “ I 
wish, Blanche, you and Laura would see that he is properly looked 
after, for he requires great care.” 


62 


OUR RADICALS. 


Maggie had been watching this scene from a distance, and she 
fully realized its meaning. Nothing escaped her keen eye — not even 
the anxious expression on Blanche’s face as she watched Arthur be- 
ing led away. From the captain she had gathered that Belper and 
Sir Richard Dighy were great friends. It gradually dawned on her 
recollection that Belper was the one who had saved Eugene’s life. 
Then there was something in Sir Richard Digby’s face that was not 
unfamiliar to her. It haunted her continually, but she could not 
recall under what circumstances she had seen it before, for it to 
have so clearly impressed itself on her memory. 

She ran back over the years of her past life. Oh, those years! 
what would she not give- to recall and respend them! Then she 
thought of Eugene, with his fair, handsome, and open face, and a 
shade of regret passed over her countenance as she thought how 
little the love of any human being had ever entered into her life. 

She paced the deck moodily, thinking of those on board the White 
Camellia, and of the face of Sir Richard Digby, whom she felt sure 
she had seen before. 

“Where have I met him?” she said, fretfully, in her thoughts. 
“ Where have I met him? If I could only pick up the links, what 
a chain I might forge!” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

% 

“A Cabinet Council in Downing Street. 

The ‘City of Rome” gone down in the British Channel — 

ALL HANDS LOST. 

Great Battle near Dublin — Defeat of the English 
Troops. 

Fresh Rising in India — Massacre of English near Delhi. 

Deterahned Attitude of the Volunteers.” 

This was the alarming placard of a London journal, which caught 
the eye of the Fenian, Barry, as he was walking, in one of his numer- 
ous disguises, through Picpadilly Circus, in the direction of the 
Strand, where he was going to attend a meeting of the conspirators. 

“ Good!” he said to himself, as he walked on; “Maggie has done 
ber work well. Now, if we can only destroy the meipbers of tbe 


OUR RADICALS. 


6a 


cabinet, we shall be one more step in the direction of Ireland’s free- 
dom.” 

Immense excitement prevailed, not only in the metropolis, but in 
every town and city throughout the kingdom. Meetings of the vol- 
unteer forces, in defiance of the order of the queen’s regulations, 
had been held in many parts of England, to denounce the Peace-at- 
any-price party with reference to India and Ireland. 

Lord Cromer, a distinguished general, who had been removed 
from the army, on account of his political views, by Mr. Cumber- 
more, presided at several of these meetings in the metropolis. It 
was rumored that the militia and regulars would join with the vol- 
unteers. Lord Cromer had publicly declared that, under existing 
circumstances, parliamentary government was a farce. The effigies 
of the members of the government had been burned in public thor- 
oughfares, amid great cheering and rejoicing. 

“A house divided against itself cannot stand long, but time is ev- 
erything to our cause; for, let Cromer once establish a military gov- 
ernment, the spirit of the country might assert itself, and all would 
be lost. ” 

Another plot had been formed, under Barry’s superintendence, 
for the destruction of the cabinet ministers. It had been thought 
by the Fenian leader that, as so many attempts had been made on 
their lives and had been frustrated by Metrale, the chief of the po- 
lice, now, perhaps, he might, buoyed up by success, have relaxed his 
vigilance. 

Besides which, Barry had hit upon a plan which he thought would 
completely baffie the police. The large cistern on the roof of the 
Foreign Oflice had been out of order for some time, but had recently 
been put into repair. The pi pe for filling it with water was attached, 
but the cistern itself was empty. Barry received this information 
from a Fenian in his service, who had been employed as a plumber 
in the work. By means of a plan of the sewers and underground 
communications of London, in the conspirator’s possession, he had 
ascertained the exact position of the pipe that supplied the Foreign 
Office with water. His men had taken a house beneath which the 
pipe passed. They had orders at a certain time to tap it, and then, 
by means of a small but powerful steam-engine, to force petroleum 
into the cistern. It was further arranged that, at a given signal, the 
plumber, who had arranged to secrete himself on the roof, was to 


64 


OUR RADICALS. 


turn a tap which, for the extinction of fire at the Foreign Office, was 
connected with the reservoir on the roof. The building would at 
once become fairly saturated with petroleum, and, what with the 
fires and the gas burning below, it would be indeed strange if a sin- 
gle person within the walls were to escape the confiagration. Never 
had a more diabolical plan been formed ; and it was to meet his as- 
sociates, and discuss the final arrangements of the plot, that Barry, 
the arch-conspirator, was making his way when the placard struck 
his eye. 

The rooms in the lower part of the Foreign Oflice were being 
painted and whitewashed, and this would cause the members of the 
cabinet to hold their council in one of the upper rooms. 

On reaching Charing Cross the conspirator entered a small, mean- 
looking house. It had formerly been a pawnbroker’s shop, but the 
owner had become bankrupt, and had consequently to give up busi- 
ness. The house had then been advertised as to let, and Mike, Barry’s 
lieutenant, had taken possession, paying down the first quarter’s rent. 
It was now a common rendezvous for the Fenians, and as the cellars 
communicated with the sewers of London, they afforded a means of 
escape in the event of the house being surrounded by the police. 

On entering the house, the chief conspirator walked rapidly to a 
small yard at the back of the premises, first carefully closing the 
door behind him. He had previously whistled in a low tone, and 
the signal had been answered in a similar manner. Once in the yard, 
he looked cautiously round, and then, perceiving that he was unob- 
served, removed a large bundle of faggots, when a trap-door was dis- 
closed, evidently covering a well. It had been placed there previous- 
ly, to prevent people from falling into the hole. A slight noise was 
heard at the bottom of the pit, and it was evident from the sound 
that the well was quite dry. Some object was gradually being' 
pushed upwards, reaching in time to the level of the ground, and re- 
maining in that position. It was a ladder arranged on a telescopic 
system, and which drew out to any length required — a very conven- 
ient invention, as it could be elevated in a very confined ' space. 
Taking hold of the topmost rung, Barry lowered himself till he 
found a foothold, and in a few minutes he was at the bottom of the 
well, where his lieutenant was anxiously waiting his arrival 

“Is everything in preparation?” inquired the chief. 

“Yes,” said Mike, “our men are hard at work at the pump.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


65 


And, stooping down, he crouched beneath a low arch into a narrow 
passage which led to an opening in one of the main sewers. A 
footpath had been made beneath this huge drain. Along it Mike 
walked, bearing a lantern, and followed by his chief. After pro- 
ceeding some few hundred yards the lieutenant stopped, and, stoop- 
ing once more, passed through another arch similar to the one by 
which he had entered the sewer. Barry now found himself in a 
large vault, presumably at one time a dungeon belonging to an old 
mansion that centuries before had been erected near the Thames. 
Several men were at work here, and in the middle of the cellar was 
a small, noiseless steam-engine. The gauge showed that this machine 
was working at high pressure. 

“Just over our heads,” said Mike to Barry, “are the tanks be- 
longing to Gilot & Son, the petroleum importers. They contain 
thousands of gallons of paraffine, and we have tapped them success- 
fully, and they are now forcing the liquid through this pipe into the 
cistern above the Foreign Office.” 

A red light from some torches that were burning in a corner of the 
chamber threw its lurid rays on the faces and forms of the Fenian 
conspirators, as, stripped to the waist, they were engaged — some in 
feeding the furnace, others in attaching a fresh pipe to the fierce lit- 
tle pumps of the engine. 

Barry looked at his watch. 

“ It is now about five o’clock,” he remarked. “ Everything will^ 
be ready by seven, will it not?” 

“As near as possible,” answered Mike. 

“Mr. Ciimbermore will not return from Windsor before night,” 
said the chief of the Fenians. ‘ ‘ A special train has been ordered 
to be in readiness at 7.30, to bring him to town. The cabinet 
council cannot be held before nine or half- past. So that we shall 
be in perfect readiness for the signals. By the way, have any of you 
heard or seen anything of Maggie? It is now three days since the 
explosion took place, and she ought to have been with us by this 
time, unless she paid with her life for her success.” 

No one had heard of her, but all were anxious. Barry issued h^p 
final orders, and then retraced his steps to the mouth of the well. 
Leaving his lieutenant in the old house at Charing Cross, he went in 
search of some information about Maggie. 

“I must keep my eye on her,” he said, as once more the newspa- 
5 


66 


OUR RADICALS. 


per boys thrust their papers before him. “ She is a desperate and 
successful ally, but she would be a dangerous foe.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

The people of England had become very dissatisfied with the 
continual reverses experienced by their armies. Mr. Bullneck 
found it very difficult, in spite of his great oratorical powers, to in- 
duce English audiences to pass Peace-at-any-price resolutions. In- 
deed, some of his meetings had been disturbed of late by advocates 
of the military government, and the old agitator now saw that, if he 
wished to go with the times, he would have not to agitate for a 
peace policy, but to outbid Cumbermore, and go in for upholding 
what the military element throughout the kingdom were pleased to 
call the honor of Old England. 

Lord Cromer had been very active in arousing his fellow-country- 
men from their lethargy to denounce the principles upheld by Mr. 
Cumbermore, and also the degrading tenets of Mr. Bullneck’s 
policy. Many who before had been antagonistic to these ideas 
were now won over to their opponents by the stagnation of trade. 
Factories were lying idle, and men thrown out of work. Whole 
towns had become depopulated, and thousands of men and women, 
who formerly had earned an honest livelihood, were now obliged to 
leave their native country and emigrate with their children to for- 
eign lands. 

The result had been a complete revulsion of feeling in many of 
the constituencies. The Scotch alone were still somewhat Radical, 
but through the reverses of British troops, and the knowledge that 
their own country might even be invaded by a mixed force of Celts 
and Americans, they were becoming reconciled to the idea that per- 
haps a military dictatorship for the time would be the best form of 
government. 

Stringent orders had been sent from the War Office to Lord Cro- 
mer, to the effect that he must desist from delivering public speeches 
against the government. The volunteers had been warned that 
unless they put an end to their unlawful meetings they would be 
disbanded. But Lord Cromer, whose name had some years pre- 


OUR RADICALS. 


67 


viously been erased from the “Army List” at the instigation of 
Mr. Cumbermore, treated these mandates with contempt; and the 
volunteers, instead of being awed by the communications they had 
received, showed their indifference to the threats by increasing the 
number of their gatherings. Lord Cromer was in confidential cor- 
respondence with officers commanding other volunteer corps 
throughout the kingdom. He was known as a good general, and a 
determined, high-minded man. Many officers had agreed to obey 
him implicitly whenever he gave the order for an outbreak, and the 
metropolitan volunteers to a man were believed to be on his side. 
Information as to the probable extent of this conspiracy had been 
already forwarded by Metrale to the prime-minister Indeed, the 
cabinet council, to be held in Downing Street, related to that very 
subject. Members of Parliament, who had voted a?t unsettled times 
for the surrender by England of her various colonies, had been 
hissed on their way to Westminster by a mob representing not only 
the lower, but all classes of society; and Mr. Bullneck, the leader 
of the extreme party, had been stoned on two occasions, and his life 
placed in peril. 

Under the circumstances, it seemed strange that Mr. Cumbermore 
did not meet the threatening storm by an appeal to the country. 
But he was a determined man, and an able though unscrupulous 
statesman. His love of power and office was unbridled. His good 
opinion of himself at all times made him overbearing and despotic, 
and to see his foes, the Imperialists — whom he had contemptuously 
denounced as Jingoes — in office v.’ouid have been too much for him 
to endure. 

He had sent almcst every available soldier belonging to the regm 
lar army to Irela’^ i, and was in hopes that the next telegram would 
bring him newo of the suppression of the insurrection. Should 
this have taken place he could then appeal to the country; but not 
under existing circumstances, as a dissolution would be fatal to the 
Radical party, of which he had been so long the leader. He was 
now with the sovereign at Windsor, having been summoned there 
on account of the alarming reports which had reached the court as 
to the reverses experienced by British troops in Ireland, and the un- 
settled state of the country, owing to the Fenian outrages. It had 
been publicly stated in Parliament by the secretary of state for 
war that the reports had been much exaggerated, but the fact re- 


68 


OUR RADICALS. 


mained that the telegraph wires had been cut, and that there was no 
communication with Dublin for the time being. The court had * 
been further alarmed by a report that the Household Troops and 
the Foot Guards, upon whom the sovereign could rely implicitly, 
had been disbanded, owing to their monarchical tendencies, and 
that their barracks had been filled by the metropolitan police. 

The news from India, too, was of an alarming nature. The 
commander-in-chief of the forces in Hindostan had telegraphed 
that without reinforcements it would be impossible to subdue the 
insurgents; that the Afghans had crossed the Indus; and that, bad 
as had been the state of things in India at the time of the Sepoy re- 
bellion, it was now a great deal worse. The fact was that Mr. 
Cumbermore’s policy had been to educate the natives of Hindostan, 
under the impression that if they were well instructed they would 
see how much more beneficial it would be for them to be under 
British rule than under the dominion of Russia. He had not taken 
into his consideration that on learning their own strength they 
might wish to govern themselves. Since the Indians had been 
taught to read English in the native schools the sale of newspapers 
published in Ireland had increased enormously in the large towns 
throughout Hindostan. It was known that Irishmen had obtained 
home rule by means of outrages and murders, and this knowledge 
had induced the natives of Hindostan to try the same augument 
with a like object in their own case, ♦ 

The sovereign’s hand was extended to Mr. Cumbermore as he 
entered the private apartments. The prime-minister kissed it, but 
with a somewhat contemptuous air, as if in his opinion it was time 
that such a ceremony should be dispensed with. 

“Any fresh news from Ireland, Mr. Cumbermore?” 

“No, your majesty; but I am hourly expecting to hear that the 
insurrection has been suppressed, and that the rebel leaders are 
prisoners in the hands of the authorities.” 

“ And from Hindostan, what tidings have you?” 

“Alas! nothing of an encouraging nature,” replied Mr, Cumber- 
more. “The commander-in-chief telegraphs that he requires 
more troops, and we have none to send.” 

“But the reserves; surely they might be employed. They w'ere 
called out some weeks ago, if my memory serves me.” 

“Impossible for us to let them leave England, your majesty. 


OUR RADICALS, 


69 


We are daily in dread of a rising against your majesty’s govern- 
ment. The volunteers and militia are quite prepared to make a 
movement under Lord Cromer.” 

“The countr}’- is in a very disturbed condition,” observed the 
sovereign. “The feeling against my advisers seems to be very 
strong,” 

As the monarch spoke, a page entered the room with a despatch. 
It was directed to the prime-minister, and on it was written “Ur- 
gent.” 

“By your majesty’s permission?” said Mr. Cumbermore, inquir- 
ingly. 

On reading the first few lines* Mr. Cumbermore’s countenance 
betrayed considerable agitation of mind. The letter was from 
Lord O’Hagan Harton. It ran as follows: 

“Metrale’s information from private sources leads me to believe 
that the rebels have taken Dublin. The news is not yet public, and 
I have given orders that it be suppressed. This, however, can only 
last a day or two, as the people must learn the truth in time. Our 
military advisers say the tunnel ought to be destroyed as soon as the 
troops have returned. Cromer has made another revolutionary 
speech to-day. Don’t fail to be at the cabinet meeting this even- 
ing.” 

Mr. Cumbermore was obliged to inform the sovereign of the con- 
tents of the despatch, and he remained another half-hour in the 
monarch’s presence, after which he was conducted in one of the 
royal carriages to the station. 

How different was his reception by the spectators on that occa- 
sion to that which in former times he had received! There was no 
demonstration, although it was known that the prime - minister 
would leave Windsor at a certain hour. 

Mr. Ryder happened to be returning to London by the same train, 
with the intention of gleaning sufficient information for a para- 
graph in the Scrawler, but he found the prime-minister gloomy and 
uncommunicative. 

Half an hour after their departure the train steamed into Padding- 
ton Station, and Lord O’ Hagan Harton was anxiously awaiting the 
^ arrival of his colleague. 


70 


OUK 11ADICAL8. 


“The Duke of Preston will meet you to-night,” said the lord 
chancellor, as they drove off in his carriage. “ He is au authority 
on Indian matters.” 

“ It will be interesting to hear his views,” said the prime-minis- 
ter. “ I should like to see him before the meeting to-night.” 

“ Cromer is getting a dangerous foe,” said Lord O’Hagan Harton. 

“Yes; the matter must come before the council to-night. He is 
a man of action, not words only. He remembers that I was the 
means of having his name erased from the ‘Army List,’ and, if 
the opportunity were afforded him, he would strike deeply. We 
must arrest Lord Cromer for high-treason. The difficulty will be 
to take him. Metrale can depend thoroughly on some of the men 
in his force. They will go to Cromer’s residence at night, dressed 
in volunteer uniform. A special train will be in waiting to convey 
him to London. If it is properly carried out, his men will be igno- 
rant of the capture.” 

“ It would go hard with the policemen if they were discovered,” 
answered his colleague. “ The papers say he has forty thousand 
men at his back, with the pretence of manoeuvring under his com- 
mand. What terrible days we live in ! Who would have thought 
that under a free and enlightened Radical government England 
would be on the eve of a revolution?” 

“Yes,” replied the prime-minister; “and what perplexes me is 
that the movement is not against the crown — I wish it were — but 
against ourselves; against us, who have enfranchised the lower class- 
es because we thought it would keep us in office — who have given 
up the colonies because we thought it would be economical to do 
so— who sold Gibraltar to the Spaniards, and were able, in conse- 
quence, to abolish the income tax; against us, who strive daily to 
do away with that costly appendage, royalty— who have abolished 
the Household Troops, nominally on the ground of expense— who 
gave the people caucuses to save them the trouble of even thinking 
for themselves; and it is against us that the popular feeling is di- 
rected. Truly, ingratitude so great is unparalleled in history.” 

“ But we must dine now,” said the lord chancellor, “ and drown 
our woes in a good glass of wine, and then go at once to the cabi- 
net meeting.” 

“ There to decide on the fall of Lord Cromer,” added the prime- 
minister, for the subject was uppermost in his mind. 


OUU RADICALS. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

It was a pleasant afternoon in the middle of the month of June, 
and the large town of Meltingborough presented an unusually ani- 
mated appearance. On the following day it had been arranged that 
the great volunteer review should take place. From all parts of 
the Midland counties, and in some instances from the north of the 
Tweed, volunteers had arrived in their thousands and tens of thou- 
sands to be present on the occasion. 

The country round Meltingborough was admirably suited for a 
military spectacle — large tracts of moorland spreading for miles in 
every direction, surrounded by a broken chain of hills — and afford- 
ed space for two hundred thousand men to march past if required 
to do so, and at the same time allowed the spectators to view the 
military movements from the adjoining hills, without hampering the 
manoeuvres of the soldiers. 

The rifle-butts of the Meltingborough volunteers were celebrated 
throughout the kingdom, there being a sufficient range even for the 
manipulation of the new machine guns, which, from their accuracj" 
and rapidity of Are, were revolutionizing the system of armament 
in the British army. 

Lord Cromer’s castle, a magnificent mansion, was in the vicinity 
of Meltingborough. The park had been thrown open to the volun- 
teers during their encampment, and long lines of tall tents studded 
the glades where a few days previous antlered monarchs had held 
undivided sway. 

Lord Cromer had greatly distinguished himself in India, and 
could show the trace of many a wound received in a hard-won fight. 
On returning to England he became a legislator, and joined the Con- 
servative party, his powers of organization being of the greatest ser- 
vice to his leaders. 

There was, perhaps, no man in England who was such a thorn in 
the side of the revolutionary party as Lord Cromer. Whenever the 
Radicals formed caucuses he would start rival caucuses; not that 


i 


72 OUR RADICALS. 

he approved of the mode of warfare, but because he thought it nec- 
essary to fight the revolutionists with their own weapons. When 
Mr. Cumbermore organized meetings where ten thousand people 
were brought together to listen to his eloquence — and he could talk 
— Lord Cromer would organize rival meetings where a still greater 
number of people were brought together to listen to himself. When 
Mr. Cumbermore’s organ, the Rattlesnake, announced that gigantic 
meetings had been held in twenty large towns throughout the king- 
dom, Lord Cromer’s organ, the Sovereign and People, declared that 
in forty centres of industry meetings had been held to express their 
sympathy with the policy of his party, and their disgust at the un- 
patriotic and degrading conduct of Mr. Cumbermore and his follow- 
ers. Mr. Cumbermore, to secure a larger circulation of the Rattle- 
snake, reduced his paper from twopence to a penny, slightly dimin- 
ishing the size of that journal; whereupon Lord Cromer increased 
the amount of matter in the Sovereign and People, and sold it for a 
halfpenny. It was a case of diamond cut diamond, and war to the 
knife, betw^een the two statesmen; and Lord Cromer waited calmly 
but hopefully for an opportunity to avenge himself upon the prime- 
minister for having struck his name from the “Army List” for 
what the prime-minister cliose to describe “ as a grave breach of 
discipline,” but which was really the result of Lord Cromer speak- 
ing his mind too freely against the premier’s method of promoting 
those only who swore political allegiance to him, and also on ac- 
count of his writing to the press letters condemning this form of 
bribery, and branding it as unconstitutional and degrading. 

Lord Cromer was now engaged in visiting the encampment of the 
volunteers. The rumor of his arrival had spread rapidly along the 
lines of tents, and on all sides he was greeted with every show of 
affection and loyalty. He was a born leader of men, and his fol- 
lowers intuitively felt it, and w^ould have followed him even in a 
forlorn hope. Several officers came forward and besought him to 
address the men. 

“ It is against orders,” said his lordship, with a faint smile. “ Do 
you think we are powerful enough, with this army at our backs, to 
make our own regulations?” 

At that moment a murmur arose from all sides— a faint but per- 
ceptible murmur that sounded like an approaching storm. 

“ Speak, speak!” said the officers; “ the men will hear you.” 


4 


OUR RADICALS. 


73 


Lord Cromer turned his horse’s head round towards the castle, 
and, riding to a convenient elevation, held up his right hand. 

By this time some twenty thousand men had gathered round him, 
and a dead silence reigned as the popular general raised his hand. 
In a voice that would have encouraged the faintest heart among 
them, he addressed these words to the assembled multitude of armed 
men: 

“ Volunteers of England, you are assembled to-day nominally for 
the purpose of drill; in reality, you are here as representatives of 
public opinion — that voice so powerful that it has been called the 
voice of God. The members of the revolutionarj’- government 
have tried to stifle it, but in vain. Each day that these men are in 
power brings more humiliation upon England. Everywhere our 
arras are reversed, and our flag is trodden in the mire. The prime- 
minister, who has been called upon to dissolve Parliament, refuses 
to do it, so lustful is he of office and power. He once said that 
force is no remedy. Are you prepared, volunteers of England, to 
show him that it is a very powerful remedy? If so, speak as one 
man, and to-morrow 1 will lead you to London. Strike, volunteers, 
for Old England and our sovereign!” 

A tremendous cheer arose from the assembled multitude as Lord 
Cromer finished speaking; and, from the wild enthusiasm, it was 
evident that a spirit of determination had been communicated from 
the general to his men. 

“ The die is cast,” said Lord Cromer to himself, as he rode back 
from the camp, escorted by the commanding officers of the various 
battalions. “ The die is cast. Now, Cumbermore, look to yourself! 
One of us must fall.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

It was night in the old* Castle of Meltingborough. A dinner had 
been given by its owner to the volunteer officers, and over four 
hundred had assembled in the great hall of the castle. It was a 
grand spectacle, and did honor even to the place which for genera- 
tions had fostered sons whose lives had been ever at the service of 
their country. On this occasion a number of loyal toasts had been 


74 


OUR RADICALS. 


proposed. The sovereign’s health had been drunk with great 
enthusiasm. It w^as clear, from the applause with which Lord 
Cromer’s remarks were received, that the volunteers of England 
were united in their devotion to the crown; and, by the observa- 
tions that fell from the lips of some of the more influential, it was 
manifest that they were animated with a common feeling of bitter 
hatred towards the government. It was whispered that, if Mr. 
Cumbermore only had their leaders in his power, their lives would 
be the forfeit of their present action. The rumor reached Lord 
Cromer’s ears, and he took advantage of the opportunity afforded 
him to speak. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “it may not have struck you as very re- 
markable that on this occasion the health of the cabinet ministers 
has been omitted on the list of toasts. I look upon them as traitors 
to their country, and I now ask you to drink with me to the dire 
punishment that awaits them.” 

The remarks of Lord Cromer were received on every occasion 
with great enthusiasm ; and, after arranging for an early parade of 
the whole force in the camp. Lord Cromer retired from the room, 
accompanied by two of his most trusted otflcers. They proceeded 
to his lordship’s library, where arrangements were made for the 
movement of the soldiers to the metropolis. Lord Cromer was well 
aware that Mr. Cumbermore by that time had received a report of 
his speech, and that, in all probability, an order would be issued 
for his arrest. Indeed, so concerned was one of his officers. Sir 
Edward Righton, at the risk his leader ran of being»made a prisoner, 
that, on his own responsibility, he had thrown out a line of outposts 
around the castle, with orders to detain any one not in uniform ap- 
proaching the walls of the building. 

“There will be some difficulty in railway transport,” observed Sir 
Edward Righton, “although the station-masters and the other officials 
are with us to a man ; but I have carried out your orders, and sent 
two companies, under Colonel Trent, to the stations, with orders to 
detain all trains and secure as many carriages as possible. At the 
same time, I have sent some men to cut the wires that connect us 
with London. It will not do for Cumbermore to be apprised sooner 
than need be of our intentions.” 

“Unfortunately we have no artillery,” said Lord Cromer; “but 
it has its advantage, for we should have experienced great difficulty 


OUR RADICALS. 


75 


in transporting the guns. I propose that we move by rail to within 
about fifteen miles of London, and then, dividing into several corps, 
at a given signal each commander will march from four different 
points of the compass on the city. The metropolitan volunteers are 
with us to a man; and all the men Cumbermore can rely upon are 
the police — even they are wavering. As to the regular army, what, 
regiments there are in London may be compelled to make an in- 
effectual stand; but it will be of short duration, and they will will- 
ingly surrender. Once the blow is struck, they will hail with equal 
delight the downfall of the Radical tyrants. ” 

A servant entered the room with a card for Lord Cromer. 

“The gentleman has been detained by Sir Horace Holcroft, my 
lord, awaiting your orders.” 

“Just see who it is, Righton,” said Lord Cromer, who was too 
occupied with a map that was spread before him to look up. 

“ Sir Richard Digby.” 

“Digby!” exclaimed his lordship. “Digby, my own nephew! 
Oh! this is fortunate, indeed. Bring him here yourself, Righton. 
You remember the man who was in the 21st Dragoon Guards. He 
will be a useful man if we can enlist his sympathies. He knows his 
work well, and is a capital staff officer. Perhaps, on consideration, 
it would be better for me to meet him alone. Take him to the east 
room in the long gallery. ” 

Sir Edward Righton went upon his mission, and Lord Cromer 
turned to his other officer. 

“Are we well supplied with ammunition?” 

“Fully.” 

“ Remember, once we leave Mel tingborough, where we can procure 
everything we want, it will be difficult to find the means of supply- 
ing cartridges for our machine-guns and repeating-rifles.” 

“All this has been attended to,” said the officer. 

“ Then we move to London to-morrow.” And, saying good-night 
to his friend. Lord Cromer proceeded to the east room to meet his 
nephew. 

“How altered you are, Dick!” said Lord Cromer, after a warm 
and hearty greeting. “Let me see, how long is it since we last 
met? It must be ten years, if it is a day.” 

“Yes, uncle; time does not make us any younger in appearance, 
if It cannot steal our boyish spirits.” 


76 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ But how did you come here?” 

. “I arrived at Meltingborough on my way to town this afternoon. 
In the railway station I heard of your speech to the volunteers; and, 
as it appeared to me you meant business, I determined to offer my 
services.” 

“ What, against the government?” 

“Yes, heartily; they are going from bad to worse, and I shall be 
glad to assist in bringing them to their knees.” * 

They sat some time by the old oak fireplace, talking over old 
campaigns; and Lord Cromer felt the old attachment for his nephew 
stronger than ever when they parted for a few hours’ rest. 

Best, though, was out of the question for Lord Cromer. He sat 
himself down to study his maps, and to finish his plan for provis- 
ioning his army on the march. If Lord Cromer, as he sat in the 
old-fashioned library, had not been so engrossed in his occupation, 
he might have heard a slight noise, as of something being placed 
against the wall outside his room. At the sound several birds flew 
away from the ivj’ which clung to the walls. Two men, dressed in 
volunteer uniform, were placing a short ladder against the ma- 
sonry. Presently one of them ascended, and, looking carefully 
through the window of the room where his lordship was writing, 
made a sign to his companion, and then descended. For some time 
they both remained concealed in the shadows cast by the massive 
buttresses of the building. An hour passed, and again the man 
ascended the ladder, only to return to his companion again. An- 
other hour passed, and once more the same man mounted the rungs 
of the ladder, and repeated the operation. This time Lord Cromer 
was no longer at work. Worn out by his mental and bodily exer- 
tions, he had fallen asleep on a couch. By the faint light of the 
lamp the intruder could see the pallid countenance of the sleeper. 
Making a sign to his comrade below, the latter climbed to within a 
few feet of the window. Meantime his companion, taking out of 
his pocket a glazier’s diamond, pressed it against one of the large 
panes of glass, at the same moment making a circular movement 
with his wrist. Then, taking a large piece of brown paper, he 
smeared it with some sticky substance, and placed it over the entire 
glass. Waiting patiently for a quarter of an hour, he found the 
piece of glass excised by the diamond adhering to the paper. All 
this had been effected without any noise, abd, even if Lord Cromer 


OUR RADICALS. 


77 


had been awake, his attention would hardly have been aroused by 
the proceedings. Putting his hand carefully through the hole in 
the glass, the man drew back the bolt that fastened the casement, 
pouring at the same time some oil into the chinks of the woodwork. 
The window opened without much effort, and with very little noise. 
Telling his companion to follow him, he stepped across the sill into 
the room. Not a sound could be heard save the deep breathing of 
Lord Cromer, who, with his face turned to the wall, and resting on 
his arm, lay buried in a profound sleep. The flickering lamp gave 
a ghastly appearance to the two men, as they crept stealthily to the 
table. The flrst one to enter the room whispered to his companion 
in a low tone, and by the gesticulations which accompanied his 
remarks it was evident that it was a mooted point in the speaker’s 
mind as to whether it would not be the wisest thing to kill the 
sleeper, and then to escape as fast as possible. 

The other, however, dissuaded his companion from this course 
of action. 

“ The chief does not want him to be killed,” said the man, 

A look of incredulity passed over the flrst speaker’s face. 

“Perhaps not. He wants him to be a prisoner in his hands; but 
if he wakes, we have no other course. ” 

Turning the wick of the lamp a little higher, the speaker took 
from his pocket a small bottle, and, after extracting the cork, poured 
the contents on some wool. A powerful and sickly odor pervaded 
the atmosphere as the wool was saturated by the liquid; and having 
placed it on the pillow, the man retreated behind a curtain whither 
his companion had already secreted himself, to wait for the poisoned 
air to take effect on the sleeper. In a few minutes the sound of 
heavy breathing, which before had filled the room, died gradually 
away, each moment becoming more intermittent and less audible, 
and ceasing altogether at last. 

“ So far we are successful,” said the man who had administered 
the anaesthetic, “ but we cannot administer chloroform to him all the 
way up to town; a little of the extract of morphia will do our busi- 
ness better,” 

With these words he took from a small leather case a little instru- 
ment, and inserting it into the sleeper’s arm, injected something be- 
neath his skin. 

“ He will be quiet now for at least forty-eight hours;” said the op- 


78 


OUR RADICALS. 


erator; “ indeed, if he is not a strong man, he will sleep till Dooms- 
day.” 

“ Now let us put on his uniform,” said the other. 

Raising the body of the peer, with the assistance of his accomplice, 
he slowly dressed his victim, buckling on the sword-belt, and put- 
ting the cocked-hat on the general’s head. 

“ He looks quite lifelike,” said the man, with a smile of satisfac- 
tion. 

“ Yes; if it were daytime we should have all the guards turning 
out to salute his lordship,” said the other, with a grin. 

“ As it is,” continued the other, “ he will not be recognized; and 
even if that were to happen, they will think he is going to inspect 
the pickets. The special train is waiting at a little station seven 
miles distant, and if we can once clear the lines, there will be little 
difficulty in finishing our work.” 

Raising Lord Cromer in their arms, they carried him to the win- 
dow, and, strapping a broad leather belt around his waist, they at- 
tached it to a long cord with knots at intervals of one or two feet to 
prevent its slipping. Placing their victim on the top of the ladder, 
they allowed him to slide quietly down the incline. 

A few minutes afterwards they might have been seen driving 
down the park avenue which led to the main road. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was about two hours before dawn, just the time that a general 
with his wits about him generally selects to attack the camp of the 
enemy. Sir Richard Digby, somewhat unsettled by the exciting 
events that had occurred during the previous fortnight, had not 
slept as soundly as might have been expected after all his exertions. 
Now he dreamed of the shipwreck, then of his uncle’s revolutionary 
movement. At times a woman’s face appeared to him, a sad and 
melancholy face, with large and solemn eyes that looked reproach- 
fully at the dreamer. Sir Richard Digby started several times, and 
would have addressed the apparition, holding out his hand as if to 
welcome it; but the phantom disappeared, and was immediately 
followed by visions of the jungle and by incidents of the wars in 


OUR RADICALS. 


79 


Africa. Now he was risking his life to save a hard-pressed com- 
rade; and it seemed to him that what he had done had been per- 
formed less from a motive of gallantry than from a recklessness of 
his life, which had ceased to have any particular attraction for him. 
■ Sir Richard moved uneasily on his couch, and presently awoke 
with racking pains in his head. 

Going to the window, he threw open the casement, and admitted 
the fresh morning air, which cooled his temples. As he did so, the 
old clock in the turret struck three. 

There were still two hours before dawn, and he, remembering that 
as a boy he had often enjoyed capital trout-fishing in a stream that 
ran through the park, determined to take a rod, if one were to be 
found in the old place, and try his hand with the fly. 

Having dressed, he proceeded to the river, and, attaching his fly, 
commenced to whip the waters. By the pale light of the moon and 
stars he could see in the distance the long lines of white tents that 
formed the camp of the soldiers. The massive old castle stood out 
in the background, its turrets and towers cut clear and cold against 
the cloudless sky. That venerable pile had seen some startling epi- 
sodes in the history of his country. It had been a haven of refuge 
to Charles I., on the eve of one of his encounters with Cromwell; 
and the very stream which ran before him, so white and clear that it 
reflected the moon upon its surface, had run red in the days gone by 
with the blood of Royalist and Republican. 

On the very bed on which his weary limbs had found a fitful re- 
pose had rested the kingly head which fell beneath the stroke of the 
bloody axe. 

The fish did not rise well, and Sir Richard, after whipping the 
water for about half an hour, put his rod down upon the ground, 
and, resting himself against a great oak-tree, lit a pipe of tobacco. 
As he leaned forward to shield himself from the wind, a medallion 
fell from his pocket on the grass. He picked it up with an almost 
reverential touch, and, opening it, gazed upon the picture it con- 
tained. The miniature which he held in his hand was that of a lady 
attired in Andalusian costumeTsuch as even now may be seen at the 
balls in the Casino de Seville, after the Holy Week, and during the 
celebrated fair. The portrait was painted, and the beautiful face be- 
fore him, with its large, clear eyes and olive skin, betokened her 
Spanish blood. The fan in her hand was so exquisitely designed 


80 


OUR RADICALS. 


that it seemed to shake as Sir Richard remembered he had seen it 
when its owner had beckoned him towards her. What happy 
months they had spent together in the fair city on the Guadalquivir! 
Oh, those happy days, the days of their secret betrothal!— the rage 
of Ursula’s father, the old marquis, when he discovered that his 
only child had secretly married a heretic — the night attack upon 
him near the arches of the great cathedral — how he had been left for 
dead by his assailants, and his fruitless search for his wife — all these 
memories flashed through his mind as he reclined against the tree, 
while the smoke from his pipe slowly curled upwards, caressed by 
the wanton wind. 

While thus dreaming, his attention was suddenly aroused by the 
sound of wheels. A carriage was ascending the road slowly, on ac- 
count of the ground being very steep. The occupants, ignorant that 
they were observed, were talking freely to each other. 

“ Some volunteers going to the encampment from the castle, no 
doubt,” thought the baronet, as he glanced through the trees that 
stood between his position and theirs. 

“ How heavy the old fellow’s body is,” said one of the volunteers: 
“it is almost impossible to keep him upright.” 

This observation reached Sir Richard’s ears, and it excited his cu- 
riosity. 

Peering round a tree, he saw a gig approaching, and two men in- 
side it dressed as volunteers, supporting a third, attired as a general. 
In another moment they passed by a bend in the road, within a few 
feet of the baronet, when, to his astonishment, he recognized in the 
apparently inanimate figure his uncle. Lord Cromer. He at once 
realized that some treachery was at work, and his first impulse was 
to rush at the horse’s head and arrest the carriage; but on second 
thoughts he remembered that he was single-handed, and without any 
means of defence. Moreover, he knew a short cut across the trout 
stream by which he could gain more than half a mile on the gig, and 
have the men arrested by the first patrol of volunteers he fejl in 
with. Allowing the carriage to pursue its course uninterrupted, he 
hastened down the bank of the stream, and, springing from rock to 
rock, gained the opposite bank. Then, tightening his belt, he ran 
down the slope, keeping his body as near to the ground as possible, 
to avoid detection. Now he found himself in a morass up to his 
knees, then he had to penetrate a thick gorse cover; but, regardless 


OUR RADICALS, 


81 


of difficulties, he hurried on, until, on emerging from a plantation, he 
found himself on the high-road. 

“ The volunteers’ picket should be here,” he said to himself, “ if 
the man in charge has any knowledge of the country; for from this 
place there are five cross-paths, and the hollow below the plantation 
affords an admirable place for concealment.” 

Digby looked around for the picket, but in vain ; that which was 
so apparent to his practised eye had escaped the notice of the officer 
in charge of the outpost. 

“ D — n the fellow!” muttered Sir Richard; “ a nice sort of watch 
he keeps. I shall have to face it out with the scoundrels, for I can 
hear their wheels now.” 

The place was not at all favorable for a single man to stop an en- 
emy in the way. The baronet felt sure that if he were to place 
himself in the middle of the road the driver would gallop his horse 
at him and thus get the better of him in a moment. 

He had nothing in his hand save the fishing-rod, which he had 
carried in the hope of its becoming useful. An idea occurred to 
him, which he put instantly into practice. He had been an enthu- 
siastic fisherman, and could throw a fly with the greatest accuracy. 
Arranging his line and rod, and concealing himself behind the trunk 
of an old oak, he waited till the carriage arrived. 

The horse was tired, from the uphill work he had been doing the 
greater part of the way, and was trotting slowly up the incline. As 
it reached the spot where Sir Richard was concealed the baronet 
threw his fly, which struck deep into the face of the driver, who, 
terrified and in great pain, instantly dropped the reins. Without 
wasting the tenth part of a second Sir Richard rushed forward, and, 
clubbing his fishing-rod, broke it upon the head of the other occupant 
of the carriage, at the same time calling out, as if he had some men 
behind him, “ Shoot the scoundrels— take good aim!” 

The driver, who was maddened with pain and fear, tried to run 
away, followed by his companion, who escaped; but Sir Richard 
refused to relax his hold upon the line, and, resolving to make a pris- 
oner of one, wound the silk round his wrists and threw him upon 
the ground. Finding some cord in the gig, he bound his man to a 
tree, and then, taking the reins, he jumped into the carriage and drove 
back to the castle with all speed, supporting the prostrate form of 
his uncle with one arm. 

6 


82 


OUR RADICALS. 


On the road he met the officer in charge of the picket, and, briefly 
relating what had occurred, ordered him to take a surgeon and re- 
lease the prisoner from the tree, but to keep him in custody. He 
further charged the officer to send mounted men in pursuit of the 
other fugitive. 

It was six o’clock by the time Sir Richard Digby reached the cas- 
tle. On the steps stood Edward Righton, in full uniform, sur- 
rounded by his staff. They were expecting Lord Cromer, and were 
expressing their surprise that he had not appeared. In a few words 
Digby explained what had occurred, and on investigating the matter 
the ladder was found by which the men had entered the room. 

The ablest surgeon in the camp was summoned, and on examining 
Lord Cromer he at once understood what had occurred. Indeed, 
the odor of the anaesthetic was still strong in the room, and the 
wound on Lord Cromer’s arm showed where the drug had been in- 
jected. The surgeon, who had had great experience in the use of 
narcotics, used every possible means to restore his lordship. So 
successful was the treatment that in a few hours Lord Cromer 
opened his eyes, and was soon able to converse with those around 
his bed. 

While Sir Richard Digby was standing in the room an orderly 
brought him a despatch to the effect that the runaway had been se- 
cured, and placed in custody with the man whom Sir Richard had 
fastened to the tree. ‘ ‘ The men are so furious at the attempt made 
to capture Lord Cromer that I had great difficulty in preventing 
them from shooting the prisoners.” 

“ And it would have been what they well deserved,” thought Sir 
Richard Digby, as he looked down the long line of tents and won- 
dered how the campaign would end which had opened so inauspi- 
ciously. 


OUR RADICALS. 


83 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A LARGE party had assembled at the house of Mr. Sandford, the 
energetic chief of the London Fire Brigade. Mr. Sandford was one 
of the most popular men in town. Respected by the lower classes, 
who admired such manly qualities as pluck and total abnegation of 
self, he was equally admired by the members of every club in Pall 
Mall, The result was that Mr. and Mrs. Sandford’s “at-homes” 
were invariably well attended, and fashionable dowagers with mar- 
riageable daughters would flock to his doors. 

On this occasion there was something decidedly original in the 
appearance of Mr. Sandford’s house. The ground-floor, instead of 
consisting of a dining-room, library, and smoking-room, as one 
usually finds in such houses, was entirely given up to the accom- 
modation of model fire-engines. The brass fittings were brilliantly 
polished, and beneath the boilers prepared fuel was so arranged 
that it could be lit at a moment’s notice. Gas jets were always 
burning under the boilers, so that should a fire occur, by the time 
the horses were put-to the firemen would have no delay in getting 
up steam. 

On the occasion of Mr, Sandford’s evening parties these fire-en- 
gines were prettily decorated, and the hospitable chief of the fire 
brigade spent much time in explaining the mechanism of the vari- 
ous engines to those who were interested in them. These little 
reunions had a peculiar charm of their own. There was no stiff- 
ness, and no one seemed bored. Although there was no lack of 
titled personages, the guests were not invited merely for their social 
position, but because they were representative people in the various 
walks of science, literature, and art. No man in London had a larger 
circle of acquaintance than the Chief of the London Fire Brigade. 

In one room a number of telephones were placed, which commu- 
nicated with every quarter of the metropolis. Should a fire break 
out in any part of London, a bell would ring in this apartment and 
information at once be communicated as to the nature of the conflq,- 


84 


OUR RADICALS. 


gration. Orders would be immediately issued to the various in- 
spectors under Mr. Sandford’s command; and if the case were of 
sufficient urgency to need his immediate presence he would at once 
proceed to the scene of the disaster. 

Among Mr. and Mrs. Sandford’s visitors on this occasion were 
Lady Tryington and her nieces, accompanied by Arthur Belper, 
who, although still weak, was gaining strength rapidly. 

Lady Tryington had been obliged to go to town for a few days, 
after the arrival of the yacht at Holyhead, and Belper had accompa- 
nied them, to make his report of the shipwreck to the authorities. 
Mr. Metrale was also present, with Monsieur le Capitaine Victor 
Delange, the French military attache, and even Ricardiiis was among 
the number of guests. Belper used frequently to be a visitor at the 
Sandfords, and on many occasions he had enjoyed the excitement of 
accompanying his friend at full speed to the scenes of some famous 
conflagrations, and had frequently exposed his life to danger in 
carrying out the commands of his friend. 

“ How elegantly Mr, Sandford has arrayed them,” said Blanche, 
to whom, much to. Laura’s annoyance, Arthur was explaining the 
mechanism of the fire-engines. “ It is a noble but a dangerous pro- 
fession,” she continued; “ only second to that of a soldier.” 

“Well, perhaps it is; but the men have been mostly sailors at 
some time, and are used to the climbing. Sandford, who is always 
the first to risk his own life when necessary, expects the same cour- 
age from his men, and secures it.” 

“What splendid fellows sailors can be!” she observed. “How 
nobly they behaved at the shipwreck, when, with your soldiers, the 
poor fellows perished!” She shuddered as she remembered how 
nearly Arthur Belper had shared their fate. 

In the meantime the French attache was conducting Lady Try- 
ington and Laura to the room where the telephones were placed. 

“ It is so different in France,” he was saying to his companions. 
“There, when a fire breaks out, soldiers march from both ends of 
the street and force the people they meet to work in putting out the 
conflagration ; while in this country there is no need of such press- 
ure, and every one seems eager to volunteer assistance.” 

“Yes,” said Sandford, who had overheard the attache's last re- 
mark, “they are so eager that they are often in the way. But we 
cannot afford to despise volunteers. Look at those helmets on the 


OUR RADICALS. 


85 


wall — they all belong to volunteers. That one, by the way,” he 
continued, “belongs to a friend of yours. Captain Belper. He is 
one of the best men I have, and more particularly if there is any 
danger, for then he sets a splendid example to the less energetic and 
courageous. ” 

Blanche, who had entered the room as the chief was speaking of 
Belper, blushed with conscious pride as she heard him praised. At 
the same time she realized with fear how often he placed his life in 
peril ; and then she knew how precious that life was to her. 

At that moment one of the electric bells rang out clear and inces- 
sant, and the chief of the fire brigade applied his ear to the tele- 
phone. He then signalled to his men in the engine-room, and with- 
out any fuss or commotion the horses were put to the engines. In 
a few moments he was in uniform, and, springing on to the fore- 
most engine, was immediately followed by Arthur Belper and 
Victor Delange. For an instant Ricardius had imagined that he 
would like to be of the party; but considering that his pumps might 
get very wet, he sat down behind Blanche, who, pale and trembling 
at what had occurred, was listening to Lady Tryington’s remarks. 

Lady Tryington, who was a little angry at the sudden departure 
of her niece’s cavaliers, w’as telling Mrs. Sandford of the shipwreck, 
and of the marvellous escape of her nephew and Captain Belper. 

“ I hoped to have seen Sir Richard Digby here this evening,” said 
Mrs. Sandford, “but men have always so many engagements.” 

“He is not in London,” said Lady Tryington. “He started for 
Meltingborough a few days ago to visit some property he has in the 
neighborhood.” 

“Meltingborough!” said Ricardius; “that dreadful place from 
which reports come that Lord Cromer intends to march on Lon- 
don?” 

“I should not be surprised if Sir Richard joins his uncle,” said 
Lady Tryington. 

“Sir Richard is too wise in his generation to commit himself in 
that way, ” said Mr. Metrale. “The government is too strong to be 
overturned. I have fifteen thousand men at my command, and we 
shall make an effectual resistance.” 

“And while you are thus engaged,” remarked Mrs. Sandford, 
smiling, “we shall be at the mercy of thieves and burglars.” 

The party soon broke up after the departure of Mr. Sandford. 


86 


OUR RADICALS. 


As Ricardius was stepping into his brougham it occurred to him 
that he would like to see a' little of the fire from a distance. 

“ Where is the fire?” said Ricardius to his coachman. 

“At the Foreign Office, sir, Downing Street.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ Hold tight,” said Mr. Sandford to his friend, the moment they 
reached the street. 

The advice was not out of place, for the moment that the horses 
felt the reins slackened they started forward at a gallop. Two 
firemen were standing behind and shouting at the top of their voices 
to warn people that the fire-engine was approaching. 

“ C'estmagnifique !” said Victor Delange, as they darted through 
the streets at racing speed. “How well the fellow drives!” 

“ He would not be here if he didn’t do so,” said Sandford. 

“Look, look!” exclaimed Victor Delange; “the sky seems to be 
on fire.” 

As they approached the scene of the conflagration the sparks were 
shooting up through the clouds of smoke from the roof of the For- 
eign Office and the adjoining public buildings. A crash was heard, 
and there rose a vast crimson lake of fire to the heavens above, light- 
ing up the faces of the crowds in the streets with a lurid glare. 

“ Great God!” exclaimed Sandford. “ It is serious. The Indian 
Office has caught as well.” 

“ The prime-minister’s residence, too,” said the driver. 

“Look to your business,” called out the chief. 

The mounted police were drawn up across the street, and were 
endeavoring to keep the crowd in order, and preventing them from 
passing the cord. The black helmets of the mounted police glowed 
beneath the light from the reflected flames, and their horses, from 
the excitement of the scene, became restive and unmanageable. 

A cheer arose from the assembled crowds as the fire-engines came 
tearing down the street, and the crowd gave W'ay to admit them to 
the front of the burning buildings. 


OUR RADICALS. 


87 


CHAPTER XXI. 

All the members of the cabinet assembled at the council-meeting 
held in the Foreign Office. 

The prime-minister, accompanied by Lord O’Hagan Harton and 
Lord Hartigig, were the first to arrive. Mr. Buttertongue and Sir 
Charles Able, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, had later on 
put in an appearance. Sir Charles was the only man in the cabinet 
who was respected by friends and foes alike. From his singular 
talents and undoubted veracity he ought certainly to have been 
prime-minister. An advanced Radical, he was yet a patriot in the 
truest sense of the word, and it bitterly mortified him to feel that the 
party to which he belonged had carried out policies at home and 
abroad so utterly contrary to his own ideas. However, much as he 
was opposed to the principles of his colleagues, he would not give in 
his resignation, lest he should be the first to break up the party. He 
could have been a member of the coalition government had he wished, 
but, sore as the temptation had been, he had nevertheless stood firm 
to his side. 

“I think we are all assembled,” observed the .prime-minister, 
looking round. “Let me see, Mr. Steadyfile and Lord Camberwell 
are not here.” 

In a few minutes the Earl of Camberwell and Mr. Steadyfile en- 
tered the room. 

“ Capital!” said Mr. Cumbermore; “and now to business.” 

Later on the prime-minister said : 

“It would be fatal to our party to dissolve at the present time.” 

“There can be no doubt about that,” said Mr. Steadyfile. 

“We must remain in office at all hazards,” said Sir Poplar Burly- 
man. 

“Now with reference to Lord Cromer,” said the prime-minister. 
“You have heard the reports, which are unfortunately too well 
founded. Here is a copy of the speech he is said to have made, and 
it justifies me in having his lordship arrested on a charge of high- 
treason.” 


88 


OUR RADICALS. 


“Certainly,” said Sir Poplar Burly man; “but who is to arrest 
him? His position is strong.” 

“Metrale will see that it is clone,” answered Mr. Cumbermore, 
“and I am sure that you are all agreed as to the advisability of the 
thing.” 

No dissenting voice being heard, the prime-minister continued: 

“Our troops have again been defeated in Ireland; we must re- 
member that it will be impossible to conceal that fact from the pub- 
lic many more hours. When it is announced there will be terrible 
excitement in the city and throughout the country.” 

“ Have you full particulars?” said Sir Poplar Burly man. 

“ The details at present are as follows: Lord Saxborough, in whom 
we placed implicit confidence, encountered the rebels near Taljaght. 
Saxborough ’s despatch says that all went well at the commencement 
of the engagement; but after a time two of his Irish regiments, that 
had been sent to support an attack on the enemy’s left, suddenly de- 
serted. Seeing this, he despatched two cavalry regiments with orders 
to attack the American contingent from the rear, as their general had 
neglected to support his left wing. Our cavalry had nearly suc- 
ceeded in effecting this movement when they were assailed by an 
overpowering number of the rebels, and prevented from carrying 
out their orders. The day would have been ours, had Lord Sax- 
borough had one more regiment at his command ; but the loss of the 
21st Dragoon Guards turned the scale in the Fenians’ favor, and he 
had to retire, leaving Dublin in the possession of the rebel forces. 
He has entrenched himself at the mouth of the tunnel, and if we 
can only supply him with reinforcements he is confident of ultimate 
success. Our losses are heavy, but the actual number is unknown 
at present. The enemy suffered terribly, but their force is still great 
in numbers. At present,” continued the prime-minister, “Lord 
Saxborough must remain quiet, for every man I can rely upon will 
be required to defend London should Lord Cromer advance.” 

“Do not let any more go at present,” said Lord O’Hagan Har- 
ton,* “ we must be protected.” 

“If it were not for the strong public feeling in England, I should • 
say let the United States annex Ireland,” remarked Sir Poplar Burly- 
man. 

“That is all very well,” said Mr. Steadyfile; “but what a cry 
there would be from people who have property there 1” 


OUR RADICALS. 


89 


“ Property be d d!” said Sir Poplar Burlyman. 

“ So it is nearly,” said Lord Camberwell. 

“What is this trickling from the ceiling?” said the lord chan- 
cellor, as some liquid fell upon his hand; “ it is not water!” 

Pie shook the drops from his hand into the fire, and it was at once 
clear that the liquid was of an inflammable nature. Going to the 
door, he called to one of the under-secretaries, who should have been 
near at hand. To his surprise there was no one there; but a fearful 
scream reached his ear, and, rushing to the adjacent room, from 
whence the cry emanated, he found an unfortunate man in flames. 
From the ceiling of this room, too, an inflammable liquid was steadily 
dropping, and the corridor beyond was filled with dense clouds of 
smoke. It was evident that the building was on fire. Lord O’Hagan 
Harton would have made his escape at once, had not the only means 
of retreat, viz., the corridor, been cut off. Returning to the council 
chamber, he informed his colleagues of the state of affairs. All was 
confusion and consternation. Each man looked anxiously at his 
neighbor as they realized the gravity of the situation. Sir Charles 
Able was the only man who retained his presence of mind, and at 
once proceeded to the corridor to ascertain what means of egress it 
offered. Returning, he said : 

‘ ‘ The corridor is a mass of flames ; all hope must be abandoned 
in that direction.” 

As he spoke, a crash was heard in the distance. 

“ The staircase has fallen!” said Lord O’Hagan Harton, wringing 
his hands; “ what are we to do?” 

Mr. Cumbermore opened the door, and a vast volume of smoke 
entered through the aperture. 

“We must keep the door closed,” said Sir Charles Able. “The 
balcony is our only chance of escape.” 

Opening the window. Sir Charles Able walked on to the little 
parapet, followed by the other members of the cabinet. There was 
not much room for them to stand on the small enclosure, and they 
were eighty feet from the ground. 

A shout of encouragement arose from the crowd, as they saw the 
inmates of the building crowd upon the balcony, and it was renewed 
as a fire-escape arrived upon the scene. It was placed against the 
building, but it was immediately seen that at least forty feet inter- 
vened between its summit and the balcony. Another ladder was 


90 


OUK RADICALS. 


attached, but still it was impossible for the prisoners to descend, and 
the strain of a third would have been too great. At this point Cap- 
tain Sandford arrived, and at once grasped the situation, 

“ It is useless trying to reach them at that altitude,” he observed. 

Arthur Belper had been looking up at the balcony with a view to 
proposing some means of escape, when he discovered that the people 
on the parapet were the members of the cabinet. The populace 
had hitherto not recognized the familiar faces of Mr. Cumbermore’s 
minority; but immediately the news spread, a revulsion of feeling 
took place. 

“Let them burn!” shouted a number of voices; but the majority, 
actuated by better feelings, though cherishing the same political 
hatred towards the sufferers, cried down the inhuman mob. 

It was a very critical moment. The floor of the corridor had al- 
ready given way, and forked tongues of fire were forcing themselves 
through the lower windows of the building. The heat was over- 
powering from below ; and from above some molten lead was falling 
from the roof, some of which had dropped down the neck of the 
lord chancellor, who, yelling with agony and paralyzed with fear, 
had doubled himself up in one corner of the balcony. 

The only man unconcerned for his own personal safety was 
Sir Charles Able, who, perfectly alive to the dangerous situation, 
was nevertheless disposed to take the matter philosophically. He 
had tried everything in life, and had been successful in most of 
his undertakings. He had, on account of his position — not on ac- 
count of his abilities — been flattered and fawned upon by women in 
all sorts and conditions of life. Though he had never loved, he had 
many times been enslaved, and indeed would never have been in his 
present pitiable plight but for the ambitious promptings of a clever 
woman. 

To sum his character up in a few words, he was a splendid animal; 
and, looking upon life as a comedy, and the world the stage upon 
which it was performed, he had begun to tire of the performance, 
and would have been glad to experience a future existence, were it 
only for the sake of trying something new, and escaping from the 
thralls that bound him to a party absolutely opposed to his innate 
ideas of justice and order. 

By his side stood Mr. Buttertongue, the religious enthusiast, who, 
with a text in his mouth that nearly choked him, trembled and quaked 


OUR RADICALS. 


91 


at liis approaching doom. Another crash was heard behind them, 
and it was seen that the floor of the council chamber had partly fallen 
through, and the flames from beneath were rushing upwards and 
nearly touching the windows, which cracked from the excessive 
heat. Every one, except Sir Charles Able, moved farther from the 
window to the edge of the balustrade, thereby doubling the strain 
on the balcony. The lord chancellor, eager to change places with 
the prime-minister — who had gained a temporary advantage over 
his friend — would have upset all the rest of the members in his ef- 
forts had he not been restrained by the strong arms of Sir Charles 
Able. 

“ If you struggle so, the balcony will give way,” said Mr. Butter- 
tongue, “ and we shall be lost.” 

“Keep him back! — keep him back!” shrieked the prime-minister 
and Sir Poplar Burlyman. 

“Be courageous,” said the prime-minister a moment afterwards, 
assuming a virtue he did not possess, as he saw Lord Beckonsbury, 
the late prime-minister, in the court-yard below. 

Lord Beckonsbury had been passing the Foreign Office in his car- 
riage, when the conflagration was reaching its height, and Belper, 
who was in command of one engine, had ordered the police to let his 
lordship pass through the crowd. On Belper informing him of the 
state of affairs, his lordship had expressed a hope that some means 
of escape would be found for them. 

Meanwhile, seeing that any other means of rescuing the unfort- 
unate men was out of the question. Captain Sandford had de- 
spatched some mounted policemen to procure some strong netting, 
which he proposed to suspend from ladders, for the unfortunate 
ministers to leap into. The only fear was that the messengers would 
not return in time to save them. 

The heat was becoming unbearable on the balcony. Mr. But- 
tertongue and Sir Poplar Burlyman had fainted, and Sir Charles 
Able, who was near to the window, knew that the moment the glass 
fell out of the frames there was nothing to. keep the flame from 
reaching them. 

A deafening cheer arose at that moment from the multitude below. 
The policemen were returning at full gallop, bearing what appeared 
to be several gigantic fishing-nets. Sandford had already placed 
four fire-escapes in the form of a square under the building, and in 


92 


OUR RADICALS. 


another moment the more active men of his force were seen climb- 
ing the ladders, bearing the corners of the nets in their hands. 

“The strain will be tremendous,” the chief had said; “attach the 
nets with every care.” 

The sufferers in the window at once discovered Sandford’s design 
— his last words even had reached their ears, as the chief shouted his 
orders. They looked at each other with dismay depicted on their 
countenances. 

It seemed a terrible alternative — for at least fifty feet divided them 
from their only chance of deliverance. 

The people in the court-yard below were breathless with excite- 
ment. 

“ One at a time!” shouted the chief, at the top of his voice; “one 
at a time! Jump for your lives!” 

The moments were precious, and an ominous crack was heard 
from the windows at their back, which, in spite of the volumes of 
water that were being poured into the back of the building to quench 
the fiames, would inevitably give way in a few minutes. 

“Mr. Buttertongue and Sir Poplar Burlyman are insensible,” said 
Sir Charles Able; “ they must be thrown over first.” 

Raising these gentlemen by their shoulders and legs, their col- 
leagues lifted them to a level with the balustrade. 

“ Over with them!” shouted the chief, whose voice was distinctly 
heard in the painful silence which had fallen on the crowd. 

The quick eye of Captain Sandford had discovered a stream of 
molten lead gradually making its way down the roof of the build- 
ing. In another five minutes it would be falling in a cascade of fire 
upon the heads of the unfortunate sufferers. 

The determined way in which Sandford repeated his commands 
had a due effect. Swinging them in the air, and ultimately releas- 
ing their hold, the insensible men fell with lightning rapidity into 
the net — Sir Poplar Burlyman first, and after him Mr. Buttertongue. 
Firemen were .waiting on the rungs of the ladder to release the vic- 
tims from their position, and with great speed the two ministers 
were taken from the net, which had given slightly in the fall, and 
were being borne down the steps to the excited crowd. 

The next to fall was the prime-minister, who lost his balance, on 
gaining the top of the balustrade, and nearly paid for it with his 
life. He was, however, taken out insensible but unhurt. The oth- 


OUR RADICALS. 


93 


ers, seeing the good-fortune of their colleagues, hastened to follow their 
example. The last to jump was Sir Charles, who was able to de- 
scend the ladder without even the assistance of the firemen. 

‘ ‘ They have to thank you for their lives, ” said Lord Beckonshury 
to the chief of the fire brigade, offering his congratulations. 

“ I am glad they are safe,” answered Captain Sandford. 

“ Yes,” replied Lord Beckonshury; “it will be time enough for 
them to experience that sort of punishment in the next world. ” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The morning sun gilded the turrets of Cromer Castle. The lord 
of the mansion had recovered from the effects of the narcotics ad- 
ministered to him by Metrale’s agents. A cry for speedy vengeance 
had been raised by many of his adherents, and some had gone so far 
as to entreat his lordship to assemble a court - martial to try, and in- 
flict summary punishment upon, the two detectives. 

One of the prisoners was Mr. Jumbleton, and when Sir Richard 
Digby had spoken to him, his fear of never seeing Mrs. Jumbleton 
again so worked upon his mind that he consented to give Lord 
Cromer any information he might want, if his lordship would only 
spare his life. He had already informed Sir Richard Digby of the 
prime-minister’s complicity in the plot, and remembering that Cap- 
tain Belper was Sir Richard’s most intimate friend, and that Belper 
had been to the office several times about Eugene, he thought that he 
might perhaps influence the baronet to speak on his behalf, by un- 
folding what he knew of the mystery attaching to the boy, and the 
reasons which induced Metrale to be so reticent on this subject to 
those interested in the lad’s parentage. He had already hinted that 
he knew more about this matter than he cared to tell, and at length, 
on Sir Richard’s promising to intercede with his uncle, he divulged 
what he knew of Eugene’s antecedents. 

“You remember, sir,” said Jumbleton, “on the first occasion 
Captain Belper came to the chief’s ofiSce, he brought a letter of in- 
troduction from you?” 

“Well?” 

“Mr. Metrale at once set me and my wife, who is uncommonly 


94 


OUR RADICALS. 


clever in these matters, to ferret the matter out. She went straight 
to Paris, and ingratiated herself with some of the Fenian brother- 
hood, and eventually learned that the boy was not French by birth, 
but English; and, moreover, heir to a large property in England. 
His uncle, in fact, was a peer, and no less a person than Lord 
Cromer.” 

“What do j’-ou say?” said Sir Richard Digby, with astonishment. 
“Lord Cromer has no nephew but myself, and I have no children, 
therefore your statement has no truth in it whatever; your wife 
must have been misinformed.” 

“I am sure you will be convinced she was right,” said Jumble- 
ton; “my wife is a shrewd woman, and she discovered that the 
original idea of the Fenians was to keep the child in their custody, 
he being the heir to the estate, and in time, if Lord Cromer in any 
way interfered with their plans, to inform him of the existence of 
the child, and threaten to kill him if his lordship refused to act upon 
their instructions,” 

“But Lord Cromer had only two brothers,” said Sir Richard 
Digby: “one who died at twenty-six years of age, unmarried, and 
my own father, who had but one son.” 

“How do you know that Lord Cromer’s brother was unmar- 
ried?” 

“ It was never supposed that he married.” 

“ But it was a fact,” answered the detective, “ Lord Cromer him- 
self knows very well that his brother contracted a mesalliance with 
a French actress. He is also aware that a child was born of that 
union, and that shortly after his birth the child disappeared. All 
this Lord Cromer knows as well as I do; but as he believes the child 
to be dead, and as you are his heir, he has never thought it well to 
mention the matter to you. The Fenians have constantly corre- 
sponded with his lordship, but he has refused to see the child, and 
affects to disbelieve the whole story. One of these letters from 
Moonlight Barry, the Fenian chief, contained the information that 
unless Lord Cromer ceased to denounce the Irish agitators the child 
would be destroyed by drowning. His lordship ignored the threat, 
and but for Captain Belper the boy would be to-day in ‘ kingdom 
come.’” 

“ Why, then, did Metrale not inform Captain Belper at once of this 
state of things?” 


OUR RADICALS. 


95 


“For the best of reasons,” replied the detective. “He had in- 
formed Mr. Cumbermore instead, and the prime-minister, for state 
purposes, preferred to be the sole person aware of the existence of. 
Lord Cromer’s heir. He knew that the child was in safe-keeping, 
and thought that some day he might obtain an advantage over Lord 
Cromer by telling him that he could point out the real heir to the 
estates, and supplant the only person his lordship cares one jot or 
tittle about in the world — that is, yourself.” 

“ I can hardly believe it,” said the baronet, thoughtfully. 

“ If you doubt my statement, ask Lord Cromer himself ; you 
will find, if he speaks the truth, that my words will be corrobo- 
rated. ” 

Sir Richard Digby, on leaving Jumbleton, went straight to Lord 
Cromer’s apartments. The general was alone with Sir Edward 
Righton, and they were comparing notes over a map stretched out 
on the table before them. 

“Ah, it is you, Dick,” said Lord Cromer, as he heard his neph- 
ew’s footsteps. “We are making our final arrangements. If it 
had not been for those two scoundrels, I should have marched upon 
London three or four days ago.” 

“What news have you from town?” said Sir Richard; “any- 
thing satisfactory ?” 

“Quite,” said his lordship. “The people are becoming more 
dissatisfied every day with the government ; Downing Street has 
been set on fire, and Cumbermore and his colleagues nearly perished 
in the flames.” 

“ That was undoubtedly the work of the Fenians,” said Sir Ed- 
ward Righton. 

“ Yes, they may have had a finger in the fire,” said Lord Cromer, 
his face darkening the while. “ These scoundrels are capable of 
any atrocity.” 

“ The prime-minister escaped, then ?” said Digby. 

“ Yes . here is the account— read it. I see a friend of yours, Cap- 
lain Belper, distinguished himself. ” 

Sir Richard Digby sat down to read the account of the fire, while 
the two generals continued studying the map. 

“The effect of marching from four different points on -the city 
will be to completely paralyze the action of our opponents. My 
spies tell me that Metrale’s plan is to march out of London and 


96 


OUR RADICALS. 


invite an attack, hoping that the volunteers, of whose courage he 
has hut a poor opinion, will be awed by the sight of his myrmidons 
of the law. lie will be powerless when he hears we are marching 
from four points, and he will have to divide his force if he wishes 
to keep us out of London.” 

“The troops in Ireland have been defeated again, I see,” said 
Sir Richard -Digby. “ They have fallen back on their original posi- 
tion at the mouth of the tunnel.” 

“ Ten thousand more volunteers are on their way to join us,” ob- 
served Sir Edward Righton. 

“Yes,” said Lord Cromer; “I expect to have a force of nearly 
eighty thousand men with me w^hen I begin my march.” 

Shortly after this Sir Edward Righton left the castle to inspect 
the arrangements made for the reception of the expected corps of 
volunteers, and Lord Cromer was left alone with his nephew. 

Sir Richard had only affected an interest in the paper he was 
holding before him; in reality, his mind was engrossed with the 
revelations the detective had made to him. 

“You are looking ill, Dick,” said Lord Cromer, anxiously. 

“I am fairly well,” replied Sir Richard; “but I have just had 
some information imparted to me by one of the prisoners, and it 
has quite upset me.” 

“ What about ?” 

“ About the child who was lost in Paris, some thirteen years ago, 
but who now, it appears, is alive and well.” 

Lord Cromer started at this sudden announcement, and turned 
pale. The conversation had taken a turn he had not anticipated. 

“ I wish to be frank with you,” continued Sir Richard, looking 
his uncle steadfastly in the face. “ Is the story true or false? Had 
my uncle Henry a son ?” 

Lord Cromer hesitated a moment, then, seeing that his nephew 
was determined to have an answer, he spoke: 

“It is a pity that all the scandal Henry created in the family 
could not have been buried with him; but you ask a plain question, 
and I will not conceal facts from you. My brother Henry’s wife 
had a child— whether he was Henry’s son or not, God only knows; 
anyhow, my brother did not deny his paternity.” 

“And the boy disappeared?” 

“ Yes, suddenly, one evening, when out with his nurse on the 


OUR RADICALS. 


97 


boulevards. Woman and child disappeared, and I had hoped never 
to return, for my affections were always set upon you, and I wished 
you to be my heir.” 

Lord Cromer rang the bell, and ordered the detective to be 
brought before him. 

]VIr. Jumbleton repeated his statement ; and even assured Lord 
Cromer that the account of the child’s abduction, the name of the 
woman who had abducted him, and every fact connected with the 
case was registered in a book in Mr. Metrale’s possession. 

Nothing more could be learned from the prisoner, and, ordering 
him back to his cell. Lord Cromer was once more alone with his 
nephew. 

“And so your friend Belper saved the boy’s life?” 

“ Yes; and the lad is still with him.” 

“It cannot be true — it cannot be true!” said Lord Cromer; 
“ there must be some treachery at work.v If the worst comes to the 
worst,” he continued, “and Henry’s ill-begotten son is to be heir to 
Cromer Castle, not one farthing of my funded money shall he have; 
and every tree that grows on this land shall be cut down, and turned' 
into money for you.” 

The peer took his nephew’s hand affectionately, and, sinking into 
a chair, covered his face with his hands. 

Digby saw that Lord Cromer wished to remain undisturbed, and, 
with one compassionate glance, he turned and left the room. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“ So they are really not much the worse after the fire,” said Laura 
Tryington to Captain Belper; “and you behaved so nobly! Do 
you know. Captain Belper, you are my ideal of a hero !” 

“Really, Miss Tryington ; then I should recommend you to ele- 
vate the standard of your, ideals. But where is your cousin this 
morning ?” 

“ I suppose, as she dwells in a hermitage,” said Laura Tryington, 
contemptuously, “she wishes to be considered a recluse.” 

Hermitage was a picturesque residence at Wimbledon that Lady 
Tryiugton had taken for a short time. It was an old-fashioned 

7 


98 


OUR RADICALS. 


building — probably of the time of Queen Anne — and the large 
grounds surrounding it were thickly planted with fine old oaks. 

Blanche, whose health was still very indifferent, had felt the bene- 
fit of the change; and Dr. Planselle, who attended her, opined that 
with time and rest she would become convalescent. 

Arthur Belper was a frequent visitor at the Hermitage. 

He would ride over to Wimbledon, and spend two or three hours 
with Lady Tryington and her nieces, entertaining them with mili- 
tary and political news, which he had derived from official sources. 
In return Laura would play her favorite pieces to him, upon a fine 
Erard ; and Blanche would sing, with a feeling that could not fail 
to touch the listener, some quaint old English and German ballads. 

Here, then, was a grand field for Lady Tryington to exercise her 
talents as a match-maker. Belper, however, divided his attentions 
so fairly between her two nieces that it was very difficult to say for 
which of the two he had a predilection. One day she thought 
Laura was the favored one, because he talked more to her than to 
her cousin ; but the care and the reverence which he threw into the 
most trifiing attention paid to Blanche left it in Lady Tryington’s 
mind a perfectly open question. 

Laura was greatly piqued at the conduct of the young officer; and 
Lady Tryington herself w^as becoming indignant at what she con- 
sidered to be trifling with the affections of her nieces. Would it 
not be prudent to discourage his presence at the Hermitage? This 
she would undoubtedly have done but for the fact that in a few 
days he would be leaving Wimbledon, and perhaps in that time he 
might declare his intentions. 

Arthur Belper was absolutely ignorant of Sir Richard Digby’s 
movements — no news having reached London of the baronet’s ad- 
herence to Lord Cromer. In fact, Belper, urged thereto by the 
prime-minister and other influential gentlemen, had almost commit- 
ted himself to use his services against the proposed invasion. 

Mr. Cumbermore, who had learned from private sources that the 
idea of placing nets to release the cabinet ministers from their peril- 
ous position on the night of the fire had emanated from the fertile 
brain of the young captain of dragoons and not from Mr. Sand- 
ford’s, had lost no opportunity of showing Belper how much he ap- 
preciated his services. 

Will Mr. Metrale’s police ever make good soldiers?” inquired 


OUR RADICALS. 


99 


Laura Tryington. “They are splendid men to look at; but will 
you be able to teach them to hit a target?” 

“That is the difficulty,” replied Arthur. “As you saw yester- 
day when we rode over to the butts, they are very indifferent marks- 
men.” 

“I am a fair shot myself,” said Laura, “and would certainly en- 
list under your banner. Captain Helper.” 

“ She certainly is a good sportsman,” said Lady Tryington, join- 
ing them as they sat by the piano. “She used to go out salmon- 
fishing every morning last year, and very well she looked in her 
Highland costume.” And Lady Tryington cast an approving glance 
at her niece. 

“I hope Digby will ask us again to his property in Scotland,” 
continued Laura Tryington, addressing Captain Helper. “ I never 
enjoyed myself so much anywhere, except on the yacht after you 
came.” 

“Lady Tryington, will you allow me to take places for you and 
your nieces to-morrow at a field-day at Wimbledon? Metrale is go- 
ing to parade his entire force, in number about eighteen thousand. ” 

“I suppose Mr. Cumbermore will be there?” said Lady Trying- 
ton, evasively. 

“Yes,” answered Captain Helper; “and all the cabinet minis- 
ters.” 

“Here is Hlanche,” said Lady Tryington. “ If she is well enough 
to accompany us, I shall be delighted.” 

To Laura Tryington’s great annoyance Hlanche accepted the in- 
vitation, and it was arranged that the two young ladies should ride 
to the common about three o’clock on the next day, and that Lady 
Tryington should witness the march past from her carriage. 

“I had no idea you cared about reviews,” said Laura, sarcastical- 
ly, to her cousin. 

“I have never seen one,” was the reply, “and I am curious to 
see what it is like.” 

“ Have you heard from Digby lately?” said Arthur, after a pause. 
“ It is two or three weeks since he was in town.” 

A servant entered before Lady Tryington could reply, with a let- 
ter for Captain Helper. 

“It is from the very man I was speaking of,” said Arthur, glanc- 
ing at the handwriting. 


100 


OTJR RADICALS. 


“Open it,” said Lady Tryington. “It may C9ntain some inter- 
esting news for us all.” 

The letter was not a long one— Digby’s never were. From it 
Arthur learned for the first time that his friend had joined Lord 
Cromer, and that in a very short time they would march upon Lon- 
don, and force the government to dissolve Parliament. Digby con- 
cluded by asking Arthur to join them at Meltingborough Castle. 

“He is too late in the field,” said Arthur. “ Cumbermore. has 
been very kind to me, and I must keep my word to him.” 

“Even if your conscience were to tell you that he is wrong, and 
Lord Cromer is right,” suggested Blanche. 

“ Soldiers ought never to indulge in a conscience, I should think,” 
said Laura. “They should obey the powers that be.” 

“Well,” said Arthur, “Mr. Cumbermore is the sovereign’s prime- 
minister, and so long as the sovereign does not order me to do other- 
wise I shall obey his government, much as I regret being in oppo- 
sition to my old friend.” 

“It would be horrible if you were to come into collision,” said 
Lady Tryington. “It is horrible enough to realize that we are on 
the eve of a civil war, and at the end of the nineteenth century.” 

“Men, I suppose, love fighting for the excitement it produces,” 
said Blanche; *‘but I sympathize in this case with Lord Cromer.” 

Arthur made no answer, but this remark, coming from one usu- 
ally so quiet and reserved, struck him forcibly. 

Laura was delighted at the opportunity afforded her of taking up 
the cudgels for Captain Belper. 

“I am afraid I am prejudiced,” said Blanche, “against Mr. Cum- 
bermore, who, in my opinion, seeks only his self-aggrandizement, 
and cares little for the welfare of his country.” 

Again Arthur kept silence; but as he was riding back from Wim- 
bledon, with Eugene by his side, the boy wondered what could have 
made his deliverer so thoughtful. Arthur was thinking of what 
Blanche Tryington had said, and wondering in himself how power- 
ful was the infiuence over a man of the woman he loved. 

“And it would not be love,” he murmured, “if it had not the 
power to make us think right wrong and wrong right.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


101 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Great annoyance had been caused to the Fenians in London by 
the failure of the plot to destroy the members of the cabinet assem- 
bled in the foreign office. It had, moreover, resulted in the arrest 
of Mike, Moonlight Barry’s lieutenant. 

The conspirators feared that their agent had been induced to di- 
vulge some of the secrets of the brotherhood; orders therefore had 
been given to change the place of meeting, and Barry had bought a 
small trading-vessel which was lying in the docks. He had given 
out that this ship would shortly sail for the West Indies, and that 
he was awaiting cargo. 

The members of the secret society, under the guise of sailors, as- 
sembled on board, and there considered what step they should next 
take to vitally injure Mr. Cumbermore and his government. Barry 
had learned that it was the intention of the government to withdraw 
the troops from Ireland through the tunnel. He also knew that the 
English general in command had determined to fight one more bat- 
tle before he commenced a retreat. The Fenian head-centre had, 
moreover, discovered that all the supplies and ammunition for the 
army in Ireland were transmitted through the tunnel. If this 
means of communication could be destroyed, Barry thought that the 
English troops would be at the mercy of the Irish national army 
and their allies. He was aware that Lord Cromer and his volun- 
teers had resolved to march upon London; but, owing to the diffi- 
culties the general had experienced in organizing his commissariat, 
it was thought that some time must yet elapse before he could com- 
mence a forward movement. Hence, for the moment, he need not, 
according to Barry’s calculations, be considered an actor on the 
scene. 

It appeared to Barry that the moment was ripe for action on the 
part of himself and his conspirators. With this idea in view, he 
convened a meeting of the chief centres of his party on board the 
trading-vessel. One by one they assembled on the boat, Metrale’s 


102 


OUR RADICALS. 


agents little thinking, as the sailors passed them, that they were the 
very men they were in search of. 

“ It will not he necessary for me to detain you long," said Barry 
to his accomplices; “I wish to speak with you of a plan I have in 
contemplation. It is to destroy this end of the Irish Channel Tun- 
nel, and thus cut off all supplies and reinforcements from reaching 
the troops in Ireland. There are several ways of carrying out this 
idea, but all of them are difficult to execute, on account of the watch 
kept on our movements in this country. I have sent for you, hoping 
that some of you may be able to devise a plan for reaching the ob- 
ject I have in view." 

A murmur of satisfaction followed the speech of the chief, 
and a long silence ensued, broken at length by the voice of Mag- 
gie. 

“Could not some dynamite be prepared as coal, and placed on 
one of the engines? This exploding, say half-way across the sea, 
would probably destroy the tunnel." 

“ I have thought of that," said Barry; “but it is open to objec- 
tion. The tunnel is several hundred feet below the sea, and, great 
as the explosion would be, it would not in all probability have the 
desired effect." 

“Would it not be possible for us to undermine this end of the 
tunnel?” suggested one of the conspirators. 

“The process would be too tedious,” said Barry. 

“ I have a suggestion to make,” said a short, thickset man, who 
some years before had been well-known as an influential Home 
Ruler at Westminster. His attendance at the meetings was very 
rare, but he was supposed to have even greater influence than Barry 
with the conspirators. 

“ You know the forts that have been erected at a considerable ex- 
pense,” continued Sullivan, “ at the mouth of the tunnel?" 

“ Yes," replied Barry. 

“In one of these forts there are wires connected with mines be- 
neath the submarine railway. These mines were laid several years 
ago at the instance of Lord Cromer, who was from the first opposed 
to the idea of the Channel Tunnel, but who, seeing that all his warn- 
ings were of no avail, endeavored, and successfully too, to neutral- 
ize the danger to his country in the way I have mentioned." 

“ But I do not see how that is to help us,” said Barry; “the wires 


OUR RADICALS. 


103 


are in the fort, and to destroy the tunnel we must first obtain ac- 
cess to the battery. The forts are some distance from the sea, and 
carefully guarded day and night.” 

“It is not necessary to enter the fort at all,” replied Sullivan. 
“The wires run from the fortifications to the tunnel, passing under- 
neath a coastguardsman’s house. One of us might replace this man, 
or put him out of the way, and then dig down to the wires, and con- 
nect them with one of our own batteries, and thus destroy the sub- 
marine passage.” 

The conspirators looked at each other at the conclusion of Sulli- 
van’s remarks, and, from the murmurs of satisfaction, it was evi- 
dent that the idea was received -with some favor. 

“ Three would be sufficient to undertake the business,” continued 
Sullivan; “more would create suspicion. I will take the lead in 
the matter, and, with Maggie’s assistance, I have every hope of suc- 
cess.” 

“We had better meet once more to mature our plans,” said Moon- 
light Barry, “and then let the blow be struck at once.” 

Arrangements having been made for another meeting, the con- 
spirators withdrew, Maggie remaining on deck with the chief to 
take some further instructions. 

“Have you seen Eugene lately?” Barry said, when they were 
alone. 

“Yes; he is still in Belper’s care, and appears to be devoted to 
him.” 

“ Our threat to destroy the boy had no effect on Lord Cromer; he 
does not seem to care for his heir.” 

“ His affections are set on Sir Richard Digby,” said Maggie. 

“Well, for the present it will be best to leave the boy alone, so 
long as we can put our hand on him if necessary. How go matters 
at Meltingborough?” 

“ Well, his force is continually increasing; the last account states 
that he has more than enough men to take London.” 

“ And reconquer Ireland,” added Barry, between his teeth. “ Lord 
Cromer must die!” 

“ What!” exclaimed Maggie; “you would not propose his assas- 
sination !” 

“ I would.” 

“ It would be dangerous and useless,” said Maggie. “ Digby, his 


104 


OUR RADICALS. 


nephew, who is quite as able a man, would take up the cause. If 
you wish to do any good, you must kill them both.” 

“I know, I know,” murmured the chief. “Would you under- 
take the business?” 

“ For God’s sake, Barry, don’t ask me!” cried Maggie, trembling 
and turning pale. “ I have done enough.” 

“ We are fighting a war of independence,” said Barry, encourag- 
ingly. “ Our enemy has the advantage of wealth and numbers. It 
is for your country that you do these things, and for that cause you 
will take in hand the assassination of Cromer and Digby. Besides, 
you must obey; you are in our power.” 

“You do not think to terrify me by this threat, do you?” said 
Maggie, haughtily. “ I should have thought you knew me too well 
by this time to imagine for a moment that I fear either your threats 
or death itself.” 

“No, no — no, no!” said Barry, hurriedly; “your courage and 
zeal have been too often proved for me to doubt you, and for that 
reason I ask you to rid us of these two enemies.” 

“ Refiect,” he continued, after a pause; “ should Cromer live to 
carry out his projects, England will hold up her head once more. 
England only requires a determined man at the head of her affairs 
to rule her as a dictator; Cromer is just such a man. He could re- 
conquer not only Ireland, but all her lost possessions. Now there 
are only two men capable of making a coup d'etat in this country. 
The one. Lord Cromer, who has dreamed of the dictatorship for 
years past; the other. Sir Richard Digby, who has talent enough, 
but no energy. These men, as you know, have the volunteers at 
their feet; and the day they enter London and dethrone Cumber- 
more, they strike at the same time a death-blow to our cause. ” 

“ Do you ask me at once to attempt the lives of these officers?” 
said Maggie. 

“ Not immediately; three weeks must elapse before Lord Cromer 
can move his force. The English general in Ireland will not return 
for some time, as he is hoping that our people will make an attack 
upon his intrenchments. For the present we are safe, and you can 
assist Sullivan; but when the tunnel is destroyed, and the British 
troops are cut off from England, then I commit Lord Cromer and 
his nephew to your charge.” 

Maggie left the vessel without a further reply to Moonlight Bar- 


OUR RADICALS. 


105 


ry’s proposal, and, walking through the docks unsuspected, entered 
the heart of the mighty city. * 


CHAPTER XXy. 

]\Ieantime, in London, as in the days just preceding the invasion 
of Rome by the barbarians, all was revelry and mirth. Govern- 
ments might come in or go out; what signified it to the rich and 
luxurious inhabitants? Even the day appointed for the review of 
Metrale’s forces was a signal for amusement, and the roads to Wim- 
bledon were crowded with troops marching to the rendezvous, and 
carriages containing people eager to see the spectacle. The mem- 
bers of the Alcibiades Club had even forsaken their comfortable 
lounges for the jolting drags that were to take them to the scene. 
Tliey were curious to learn the amount of physical exertion that it 
would be necessary for them to undergo should they, as it had been 
rumored, be compelled to take up arms against Lord Cromer. Ri- 
cardius and Wild Thyne were among the number; the latter, too 
old to serve himself, being much amused at the alarm of his com- 
panions. 

“ What are you thinking about?” said Wild Thyne to Ricardius. 

“I was wondering,” answered his friend, with a languid smile, 
“ what will happen to London ten years hence.” 

“ Don’t consider such questions,” said Wild Thyne; “it is really 
too hot for such reflections. Of course everything will belong to the 
people, and you and I will be in the workhouse.” 

“ Well, we shall have our own society, at any rate,” said Ricar- 
dius. 

The carriage halted for a moment, as they were near Wimbledon, 
and in a string of vehicles which extended for nearly a mile. A 
favorable position had been reserved for Mr. Cumbermore and his 
friends. Belper had obtained an order to admit Lady Tryington’s 
carriage into this enclosure, and Wild Thyne and Ricardius were 
among the favored few. Lady Tryington was delighted to find, on 
looking around, that many of her most intimate and influential 
friends had been unable to obtain a place in this particular position, 
and her opinion of Belper grew immensely when she considered that 


106 


OUR RADICALS. 


it was to him she owed this advantage of being an object of envy to 
many of her dear friends. 

Horace Deloony and Mrs. Ryder, who were conversing together, 
on recognizing Lady Tryington, at once approached her carriage. 
They had been unable to obtain admission to the enclosure, but 
“^ould speak to her over the railing. 

“So glad to see you, dear Mrs. Ryder, said Lady Tryington, 
reaching forward to shake the hand of the editor’s wife; “and you 
too, Horace. It is some time since we met.” 

“I called at your house only last week,” said Mrs. Ryder, “but a 
strange servant told me you had gone abroad.” 

“ Yes,” added Deloony, “ too bad of you, really; and to take your 
charming nieces away.” 

“Have you not heard of our adventures at sea?” said Lady Try- 
ington. 

“Only some rumors,^’ replied Mrs. Ryder; “but do tell me the 
whole story.” 

“ What a pity it is you are not in the enclosure!” said Lady Try- 
ington, inwardly delighted. “I should have to scream, so I will 
tell you another time. Come and lunch with me at the Hermitage 
the day after to-morrow.” 

“What, have you taken that charming place?” said Mrs. Ry- 
der. 

“ Yes; I have taken it while the yacht is being refitted.” 

At that moment Lord O’Hagan Harton approached the carriage, 
and Lady Tryington turned to greet him. 

“How dreadfully old she is looking!” said the editor’s wife to 
Horace Deloony. “And how she paints! Quite ridiculous at her 
time of life.” 

“But she is a clever woman,” said Horace. 

“Yes; her politics are like the Vicar of Bray’s religion. She is in 
with everybody. Conservatives and Radicals; and she holds her own' 
with both.” 

“Here is Ryder,” said Deloony. 

“Take me to see Colonel Metrale,” whispered Mrs. Ryder to her 
husband; “that horrid Lady Tryington is in the enclosure. He can 
get me admittance, I should think.” 

“If he does not,” said Ryder, the editor, “he shall smart for it in 
the Scrawler” 


OUR RADICALS. 


107 


IVith these words the editor led his wife away in search of Colo- 
nel Metrale. 

In the distance they could see Blanche and Laura Tryington riding 
towards Lady Tryington’s carriage, accompanied by Arthur Belper. 
His men had already taken up a position for marching past, and, as 
half an hour would elapse before the time appointed for the com- 
mencement of the review, the young officer was escorting the ladies 
about the ground, and pointing out to them the various battalions. 

“I would not have missed this for anything,” said Blanche, brush- 
ing back from her brow the fair hair which the wind had blown 
over her face. 

“ Look at my battalion,” said Arthur, with a smile of satisfaction; 
“splendid fellows, are they not?” 

“ Their very appearance should frighten Cousin Dick’s rebels into 
submission,” said Laura, looking full into Belper’s eyes. 

An orderly galloped up, and, making his salute, said, 

“A despatch for Captain Belper.” 

“ I am Captain Belper.” And Arthur read the missive. 

“After the review,” it ran, “march your battalion to London 
with all speed; the Fenians are at work upon some mischief. I will 
join you.” 

After leaving the ladies with their aunt he hurried back to his 
men. 

It was a grand sight to witness those eighteen thousand newly- 
levied volunteers march past the little knot of officials. 

As the troops arrived near the flag posted in the centre of the 
ground the illustrious gentlemen moved forward to receive the sa- 
lute. 

Metrale rode past at the head of the division, his cocked-hat and 
black cutaway tunic made more conspicuous by reason of the white 
charger he bestrode. 

Battalion after battalion passed the enclosure, the last to arrive 
being Belper’s men, whose splendid appearance elicited many com- 
plimentary remarks from the spectators. 

“They may march with the steadiness of a wall,” said Wild 
Thyne; “but the thing we want in a soldier is for him to shoot 
well. Cromer’s volunteers will pick them out long before their 
physical superiority can come into play.” 

The review was over, and Belper rode some little distance beside 


108 


OUR RADICALS. 


Lady Tryington’s carriage, occasionally turning to converse with 
Blanche, who rode with her cousin behind. 

“Ah,” said Wild Thyne, as he rode past, “he will lose that five 
hundred!” 

“Think so?” said Bicardius. “ The lily or the rose? The blonde 
or the brunette?” 

“ The lily and the blonde, of course!” replied Wild Thyne. “ Do 
you not see how he devotes himself to Blanche, and how mad the 
other one is?” 

“Poor thing!” said Bicardius, leaning back against a cushion; 
“ he is to be pitied if he marries.” 

“Pitied!” said Wild Thyne, “I should think so! Men are loved 
for their rank, their money, and sometimes their looks — never for 
themselves. Faugh! women are hypocrites ever!” added the old 
cynic. 

“Yes,” said Bicardius; “women are like flowers — pretty to look 
at; but their beauty fades directly you pluck them. Poor devil!” 

This final exclamation referred undoubtedly to Belper, and was 
repeated many times during the drive from Wimbledon to the doors 
of the Alcibiades Club. 


CHAPTEB XXVI. 

Sullivan and his accomplices had not waited long in London 
after it had been decided by the Fenian Brotherhood that an attempt 
should be made to blow up the Irish Channel Tunnel. Soon after 
the final meeting they were travelling in a first-class carriage from 
London to Holyhead. 

“It cost a terrible lot of money to make,” observed Lambourne, 
one of the conspirators. 

“ Some millions,” was the reply. “When it was first started the 
directors said it would only cost a comparatively small sum; but the 
water came in on several occasions, and they found the amount of 
expenditure pretty heavy at the end. It was a regular job to make 
money on the part of the directors — like many other companies in 
England. Talk about the acts of the Fenians! why, what we do is 
nothing compared with the ruin which these speculating companies 


OUR RADICALS. 


109 


bring upon many of their countrymen ; and they will even endanger 
their own country to turn a few pounds over for themselves. In so- 
ciety, what is more despicable than selling childr-en to the highest 
bidder? And yet one sees that every season, and men bet on it, and 
women’s lives are made wretched by it. Money! money! money! 
These Saxons would sell their souls for it.” 

“Well,” said an American Fenian, “in the States people don’t 
despise the dollar, I bet.” 

“Perhaps not, but there is far more true patriotism in America 
than in England.” 

Maggie sat back in the carriage, taking little heed of the conver- 
sation of her friends. She was thinking of the orders she had re- 
ceived to assassinate Lord Cromer and Sir Richard Digby. 

Where had she seen Sir Richard Digby before she met him on the 
yacht? There had been something in his face which recalled to her 
memory the features of one whom she had known in her earlier life. 
But she could never collect the links, and in despair she turned her 
thoughts again to the work before her. 

It was a windy night, and the rain beat violently against the win- 
dows, The Fenians arrived at their destination, and Sullivan at 
once proceeded with his companions to a small roadside inn, called 
the Shamrock. The Shamrock was a very respectable hostelry, 
and, although a favorite resort for Irishmen, it had never given any 
cause for anxiety or vigilance on the part of the police. The Irish 
in the locality were a well-behaved body of men. They had most 
of them been employed in the construction of the tunnel, and had 
remained there after its completion, having found comfortable 
homes in the neighborhood. Being an honest class of men them- 
selves, they had not returned to their country, owing to the absence 
of law and order there, and the unsuppressed crusade against prop- 
erty in all parts of that rebellious island. It had commenced by an 
ignorant class of tenants refusing to pay their rents to the landlords, 
in which illegal course they were supported by intelligent traitors, 
who were even allowed to hold seats at Westminster. Mr. Cumber- 
more and his colleagues refused to employ martial law, even when 
murders were committed throughout the land, and this because, in 
Meltingborough and other large towns, there were thousands of Irish 
electors who gave their vote to the Radical interest, and who would 
withdraw it if a straightforward and manly policy were substituted 


no 


OUK RADICALS. 


for the vacillating measures of which they approved. It was an in- 
teresting study for the disinterested observer. Continental states- 
men viewed it with incredulous astonishment. The reign of terror 
in Paris in the last century was surpassed in horrors by that now 
inaugurated in Ireland. Yet the people of England did nothing. 
They ate, they drank, they smoked, they slept, and were indifferent 
to all the murder and confiscation of property going on around 
them. 

The host of the Shamrock was on very friendly terms with all the 
Irish who patronized his house. 

In spite of the early hour he was standing at the door of his inn, 
his hands thrust to the bottom of his capacious pockets. 

“What, up before the sun, Patrick?” said Sullivan to him, at the 
same time cordially shaking his hand. “My friends, Patrick,” he 
added, introducing the conspirators. 

Mr. Patrick Whiler nodded his head with a sign of recognition. 

“What can Sullivan and his party want at Holyhead?” thought 
the landlord, as he showed them to their rooms. 

His wife, to whom he returned, was asking herself the same ques- 
tion, for she had some experience of secret societies, and she knew 
that Sullivan was an important member of the chief centre. 

Sullivan did not let the grass grow under his feet, but before an 
hour had elapsed he was on his way to the scene of their future 
action. He halted about half a mile from the fortifications, and 
within a hundred yards of a coastguardsman’s house. There was a 
small plantation adjoining the road which led to this building. 
After looking round to see that he was unobserved, the Fenian 
jumped over the hedge which divided him from the enclosure, and, 
advancing to the edge of the copse, looked intently at the cottage. 
Drawing a pair of field-glasses from his pocket, he submitted the 
building to the minutest investigation. A 'woman came to the 
threshold, apparently intent upon some domestic duty. From her 
appearance Sullivan judged that she was the coastguardsman’s wife. 
A few minutes later Sullivan observed a man dressed in a pilot’s 
jacket, and wearing a sailor’s hat, approach the dwelling, and two 
boys rushed forward to meet him. 

“Evidently that is our man,” said Sullivan, as he watched him 
enter the cottage; “and not a very formidable fellow to encounter. 
But now to see what other inmates there are.” 


OUK RADICALS. 


Ill 


Taking off his closely-buttoned cloak, Sullivan appeared in a 
sailor’s jersey, and, substituting a slouch hat for the one he wore, 
his resemblance to a seafarer was complete. Leaving his other 
garments in the wood, he approached the cottage. No one hearing 
the sound of his footsteps as he reached the entrance, he tapped 
lightly at the door. 

“What ho, there!” shouted a voice from within, and the coast- 
guardsman, coming forward, scanned the features of the new arrival. 

“What do you want?” 

“I have not eaten a crust since yesterday morning, ’’said the sea- 
farer, with that whining tone so often heard among the peasantry 
of Ireland. 

“ Give the poor creature something,” said a voice from within. 

“Come in, then,” said the coastguardsman ; “come in. Maybe 
she will find you a cup of milk and a hunch of bread.” 

Sullivan expressed his thanks, and entered the dwelling, following 
his benefactor into the little parlor, which served as kitchen and 
dining-room. 

“ There,” said the housewife, “eat and be thankful.” 

“Yes,” said the coastguardsman; “w^ork’s difficult to get, mate, 
and when you’ve got it, it’s very hard. Here am I up at all hours, 
and getting only eighteen shillings a week, for preventing hundreds 
of men from escaping the Custom-house officers. And if I only 
shut one eye sometimes, and let them land their cargoes, I might 
get as many pounds as 1 do shillings.” 

“Yes,” said his wife; “but then you are an honest man, and I 
am prouder to be your wife and share your poverty than walk in 
silks and satins and live in terror of detection.” 

“ All very well, my dear; but how are we to start the boys in life 
on honesty?” 

The Fenian sat listening to the conversation, and eagerly devour- 
ing the meal that had been placed before him. 

“Ah! I know what suffering is,” he said at length; “but I am go- 
ing to Holyhead with the hope of good luck. A relation of mine 
has landed there, and he has made a power of money in foreign parts. 
If I get what I expect, you shall not be forgotten. ” 

Leaving the cottage, he stayed one minute in the copse to change 
his attire once more, and then returned to his friends. 

“I have done well,” he said to the Fenians, whom he found gath- 


112 


OUB BADICALS. 


ered round a table smoking and drinking. “ Tbe coastguardsman 
and his family occupy the cottage on the cliff, and I do not think 
it will even he necessary to use force.” 

“Then how will you settle the matter?” inquired Maggie. 

“My idea is this. I have told this man that I am expecting to 
meet a relation in Holyhead. You, Lambourne, can personate my 
uncle; and you, Maggie, his niece. To-morrow we can hire a car- 
riage, and drive in the direction of the tunnel. I will then take 
you into the cottage, and you can thank the people for their kind- 
ness to me, and invite them to pay you a visit on board your brig. 
The chief has rented a small one, as you know, and it is manned by 
our friends. They will receive the whole family on board, and I 
shall return with Maggie to the cottage.” 

“But how are we to explain matters to the people here?” said 
Maggie, who looked very sceptical as to the wisdom of such a course. 

“We must announce our departure for London,” said Sullivan. 
“Take tickets, and get out at the next station. Then walk to the 
brig and sleep on deck. There we shall be more independent. The 
people here, I know, are not to be trusted. ” 

“ You need fear nothing from me!” exclaimed a voice, suddenly. 

The conspirators started. The sound came from the ceiling of 
the room. On looking up, Sullivan could discern a small hole, 
which doubtless communicated with the floor above. 

“I shall be with you directly, if you will give me admittance,” 
continued the voice. “ I am a friend.” 

“That is the innkeeper’s wife,” said Maggie to the astonished 
Fenians. 

“Damnation!” exclaimed Sullivan; “she must have divined our 
secret.” 

“ Never mind,” said Maggie. “ She seems a friend, not a foe; and 
if she proves the latter—” and here she looked at Lambourne, who 
made a gesticulation as if he were strangling something between 
his fingers. 

A tap at the door was heard, and Mrs. Whiler, the innkeeper’s 
wife, was admitted. She looked straight at Sullivan, as if she knew 
him to be the chief of the party, and then glanced round at the other 
conspirators. 

“You have played the spy upon us,” said Sullivan, doggedly. 
“ You may not know the penalty.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


113 


“Yes, I do,” answered Mrs.Whiler, calmly; “ but it would not be 
wortli your while to inflict any punishment on me if I can be use- 
ful,” she added; “ and you probably know I have proved my devo- 
tion to the cause by affiliating myself with one of the societies.” 

The conspirators consulted together in low tones for a few mo- 
ments, while Maggie kept her eyes fixed on the resolute countenance 
of the innkeeper’s wife. 

“We have decided to trust you,” said Sullivan, at length, “and 
to acquaint you with the details of our plot.” 

The chief conspirator then unfolded the method in which they had 
determined to blow up the tunnel. 

“It is a good thing you have told me all,” said Mrs. Whiler, in 
reply. “I know the wife of this coastguardsman, and have often 
stopped in the cottage.” 

“Have you ever been in the cellar?” asked Sullivan. 

“Yes; on several occasions.” 

“Is there a well by the wall at the back of the house?” 

“I have never noticed it,” said the woman, after a pause; “but 
there is a board covering something, and probably it is that.” 

Sullivan drew from his pocket a plan, and placed it on the table. 

“I received this tracing from one of the affiliates in the Intelli- 
gence Department of the Army. He was employed to copy the 
original plan for the secretary of state for war, and at the same 
time he made one for himself. These fools of officials think their 
servants are to be trusted; they will find out their mistake when it 
has cost them the flower of their army. By this plan, the wires 
from the forts run underneath the cottage, and pass within a few 
feet from the bottom of that well. The cottage was originally built 
for an electrician in the pay of the War Office, and he had the shaft 
constructed in order to make some experiments with earth currents. 
It was feared that as the mines below the tunnel had been charged 
with dynamite, some earth current might possibly be strong enough, 
in connection with one of the wires, to ignite the charge. The en- 
gineer was ordered to solve this problem. He did so, but forgot to 
have the shaft filled up when his task was completed.” 

“It will have to be the scene of our action, ’’said Maggie; at the 
same time pointing to Mrs. Whiler, and adding, “Let her go this 
afternoon and pave the way for our visit to-morrow.” 

“Do you consent?” asked Sullivan, 

8 


114 


OUR RADICALS. 


“Anything for the good of the cause/’ replied Mrs. Whiler. 

And arrangements were made that the innkeeper’s wife should 
carry out her share in the plot, and that the Fenians should leave 
the Shamrock that same evening, ostensibly for London, but practi- 
cally for the deck of the little brig. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

The review at Wimbledon having proved a success, the members 
of the cabinet began to feel a little more secure. 

Their general in Ireland, however, was still in great difficulties. 
He could only receive his provisions and supplies through the tun- 
nel, and was, moreover, surrounded by foes on all sides; but, at the 
same time, the position he held wais good, and he had rendered it 
almost impregnable by earthworks. If he was not strong enough 
to attack the Irish, they were not powerful enough to advance upon 
him with any hope of success. 

On three occasions, when Lord Saxborough had ventured to at- 
tack the enemy, he had been obliged to retire, after leaving a con- 
siderable number of his men dead upon the battle-field. 

American reinforcements were daily expected in Ireland, and the 
English ships were engaged in bringing back British troops from 
Hindostan, and could not therefore interfere with the movements 
of the American cruisers. Mr. Cumbermore was not openly at war 
with the United States, but the United .States were acting towards 
England in a very unfriendly manner. 

If Lord Saxborough could hold out until the English troops ar- 
rived from India, it would enable him to increase his force by some 
thirty thousand men. This was presupposing that Metrale’s force 
would be able to resist Lord Cromer’s advance upon London, which 
was daily expected. 

Lord Cromer had not been able to carry out his intentions as 
speedily as he had anticipated. There were considerable difficulties 
in procuring transport; and not only that, but in insuring discipline. 
At the outset of the campaign Lord Cromer felt that it would be 
necessary to treat his men exactly as if they were regular troops. 
Acting upon this determination, he allowed no night roistering, no 


OUR RADICALS. 


115 


singing after roll-call, or any other kind of levity; and on two oc- 
casions very severe punishments had been inflicted upon some sol- 
diers who had taken some poultry from a neighboring farm. Lord 
Cromer had stated at the time that the sentence passed by court- 
martial was light, but that in future no mercy would be shown. 

Sir Richard Digby proved to be invaluable to his uncle. From 
his long experience in India and in many parts of the globe the 
baronet could put his hand to most things. Besides being a very 
good cavalry officer, he understood infantry drill, and knew a good 
deal about gunnery and engineering. The volunteer officers were 
deficient in these very things, each man being fairly instructed in 
his own art, hut knowing little of the other branches of the service. 
Hence Digby had organized a military railway corps, to retake the 
railway should it fall into the hands of the enemy; he had, more- 
over, formed a telegraph corps, and a body of signallers and travel- 
ling pointsmen, and had organized a system for sending round 
ammunition to the soldiers while under fire. As an experienced 
officer, he felt the importance of not limiting good marksmen to the 
regulation rounds of ammunition. 

The result of this action on the part of the baronet was that Lord 
Cromer’s army, which now consisted of nearly eighty thousand men, 
was fairly equipped, and provided with everything a general could 
require except artillery. As to cavalry, Lord Cromer had sufficient 

over four thousand yeomanry having joined his movement. This 

last piece of information having reached Metrale’s ears, he was very 
much concerned, feeling, as he did, very doubtful as to the conduct 
of the metropolitan volunteers should an engagement take place. 

A cabinet council had been held, and it was resolved that Metrale 
should seize their arms and kill the sentries, giving it out as his 
opinion that it had been the work of the Fenians, 

The volunteers, however, would not believe the statement, especial- 
ly as they found one of Metrale’s policemen slain by the sentry. They 
endeavored to rouse the public feeling against Metrale for his coward- 
ly action. Metrale, to prevent this, ordered his men to arrest the 
delinquents. Considerable rioting ensued, and shots were freely 
fired on both sides. 

So serious were matters becoming that many of the respectable 
inhabitants packed up their*household goods with the intention of 
leaving Loudon. 


116 


OUR RADICALS, 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

It was the height of the season. The fashionable world had com- 
menced to give its dinners, parties, and balls, as if no great disaster 
were impending. 

Play was higher than ever at the clubs, and the Alcibiades was forced 
to extend its premises on account of the increase in the number of 
members. The Democrats, however, were at work, and had suc- 
ceeded in pulling down the houses in Belgrave Square and other 
fashionable retreats, and converting them into model lodging-houses 
for the poor. Mayfair, even, was threatened with demolition. 

A great irreligious movement had taken place, inaugurated by an 
individual of humble origin, who publicly declared his atheistic 
principles, and refused to take the customary oath on being elected a 
member of Parliament. A feeble opposition was raised at the time, 
but he was supported by the prime-minister, and the movement 
gained ground rapidly. 

Several young men who loved notoriety, and saw how easily this 
individual had acquired- it, announced themselves to be, if not 
atheists, at any rate disciples of the “ Know-nothing-for-certain ” 
school. They raised subscriptions for the publication of disreputa- 
ble papers, and for the building of temples where this new creed 
could be preached. Many leading men of society joined the ranks, 
and it became fashionable to belong to the new sect. Members even 
of the Alcibiades Club were among the number, led by the impulsive 
and imprudent Ricardius, 

The movement was confined to the upper ten thousand, and did 
not at any time extend to the middle and lower classes of the com- 
munity. The way had, to a certain extent, been paved by some dis- 
tinguished ladies, who had not hesitated, for some years past, to make 
the questions of a future state, future punishment, the difference be- 
tween soul and mind, subjects of frequent conversation. Discus- 
sions on free thought, carried on sotib wee even at dinners, were 
matters of ordinary occurrence. 


OUK RADICALS. 


117 


Women, not content with thinking themselves the equals of men 
in every respect, were continually stating it, and speaking of their 
sex as an injured and down-trodden race. They smoked, told each 
other stories with doubtful morals, and why should they not belong 
to the “ Know-nothing-for-certain ” school as well? 

It was a great change, after the attempt that had been made by 
the reactionary movement of the Anglican Catholics to re-establish 
in the State Church an elaborate ritual, and revive the confessional. 

This movement had met with some success at first, especially 
when the clergy appointed as confessors were seen to be men of a 
prepossessing appearance. It had been remarked that many middle- 
aged ladies, who had not previously been conspicuous by their at- 
tention at worship, had suddenly become unable to bear the burden 
of their own sins, and were therefore forced to make frequent visits 
to the vestries of the different clergy. They found, however, in 
time, that it was difficult to confess everything w ithout implicating 
some other person ; and the novelty having worn off, the confession- 
al began to lose popularity, and retreated in favor of the “Know- 
nothing-for-certain ” school. 

Yet it must not be supposed that by the “new religion,” as it was 
sometimes called, people became more cruel or more indifferent to 
death ; on the contrary, societies had sprung up in every direction to 
prevent cruelty even to animals, and it was a matter of discussion as 
to whether it was not an inhuman act to a horse to ride on his back. 
There was, besides, a great fear of death among people in general- 
much more than in the old days, when they were brought up to be- 
lieve in something, and to believe in that implicitly. It was an age 
of change. Lady Tryington and Laura were frequent attendants at 
these temples, much to Blanche’s grief. Arthur Belper had accom- 
panied Lady Tryington on several occasions — more, it must be con- 
fessed, to gain favor in the eyes of his friend than for any partiality 
he evinced towards the sensational movement. 

“We have just returned from the New Temple,” he once said 
to Blanche, “and Wild Thyne addressed us in most eloquent 
terms.” 

“I suppose,” said Blanche, quietly, “he told you to believe in 
nothing, but expected you to believe in him. ” 

‘ ‘ It was a pity you were not with us, ” said Laura. ‘ ‘ His remarks 
were most thrilling— even Ricardius was moved to tears. 


118 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ What is done with the collection?” said Blanche, smiling. '‘I 
suppose you have one?” 

“Oh, yes,” replied Laura. “Wild Thyne says it goes towards 
spreading the glorious freedom of thought which is so important a 
feature of the new religion.” 

“Yes,” observed Belper; “when Mr. Cumbermore abolished the 
English Church, he little thought how soon another religion would 
take root in the hearts of the people.” 

“ Was it not better in the old days?” said Blanche, with her sweet 
voice, which carried conviction to the heart of Arthur Belper. 
“ Was it not better in the old days, when people went to church with 
gratitude in their hearts which they wished to express, than to go, as 
you do now, to be amused? Why not go for such a purpose to a 
theatre, if that is all you require? Anyhow, so long as one church 
exists holding to the faith of our fathers, to that church I shall go, 
and not to your temples, where they pull down every old faith, and 
call it old-fashioned, and give you nothing in its place.” 

“After all,” said Lady Tryington, “Wild Thyne’s idea is not a 
new one. I have heard that in China and Japan preachers discourse 
upon many secular subjects from their pulpits.” 

“ Only think of Wild Thyne preaching about the last new fashion, 
or aesthetics as an adjunct to faith!” exclaimed Laura, laughing. 

“ Well, my dear,” said Lady Tryington, “ my poor, dear husband 
once declared that the majority of women went to church to have 
their dresses admired, and the men to admire them; so I think it 
would be a very appropriate subject.” 

“I do not see, aunt,” said Blanche, with some impatience, “ how 
we have benefited by all the changes we have undergone. Every- 
body is unsettled in consequence, and in time there will be nothing 
and no one worthy of respect.” 

After a time, Belper was conversing with Blanche alone by the 
window, while Lady Tryington and Laura were trying some new 
music upon the piano at the other end of the large drawing-room. 

“You do not believe in this new religion?” Blanche said, looking 
into his face with an appealing glance. “Your life is worthy of a 
better object.” 

“ It is a noble object in life which I lack,” he answered. “ I have 
no one who would be sufficiently interested in me to care whether I 
ever find one or not.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


110 


“Are you so sure of that?” she said, softly. “Why, Dick is your 
devoted friend.” 

“Alas! he is now my enemy. We serve two masters,” said 
Arthur. “You will not think less of me because I am obliged to 
fight against him?” 

“No, indeed I will not. I honor your respect for duty, and I wish 
you well.” 

“As well,” he said, passionately, “as when you gave me a white 
rose at Hurlingham? I never see those flowers hut I think of that 
gift.” 

“ So slight a token of my regard for you, and of my admiration 
for your courage, you treat too seriously.” 

“lam going this time into a more serious contest,” he said, softly; 
‘ ‘ and I cannot go without one more token of your regard for me. ” 

Blanche cast her eyes upon the ground, and he could see that his 
words had moved her deeply. She busied herself in arranging some 
flowers that stood in an epergne by her side. 

“ When do you expect to go?” she said. 

“To-night. I have received an intimation from Metrale that the 
prime-minister will require my services on some important business 
this evening, and I am requested to be in readiness to depart at any 
moment.” 

“To-night?” she said, sorrowfully. 

“Yes; to-night. Will you not give me a talisman that I may 
carry with me for my safety in all dangers?” 

Blanche bowed her head once more over the flowers she was 
arranging; when she raised it again her eyes were filled with un- 
fallen tears, and in her hand she held a small red rose. As she gave 
the flower to the young officer, her soft, white fingers lingered for- 
a moment in his. 

“May it bring you back in safety,” she said, softly. / 

Nothing more was said. It was her good-bye. 


120 


OUR RADICALS. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Eugene’s relations with Belper were both intimate and affection- 
ate. His education had been carefully attended to, and he could 
now speak English fairly well. To a natural grace of manner he 
added a brave and noble bearing, and on many occasions he had 
been greatly admired by Belper’s friends. 

It was raining when Belper left Lady Tryington, At the door he 
was met by Eugene on horseback, and a servant holding a charger 
for Belper to mount. 

They rode off at a brisk pace, for there were but few people in 
the streets, and hardly any vehicles to block the way, until they 
came to Knightsbridge Barracks, then the headquarters of Metrale’s 
forces. 

As they reached the entrance a brougham drew up, and Mr. Cum- 
bermore and the chief of the police stepped out of the carriage. 

“This is fortunate; we were in search of you,” said Mr. Cumber- 
more, shaking Belper by the hand. 

“Come to my quarters — we can talk there undisturbed.” 

They proceeded to Captain Belper’s rooms without delay, and 
having each of them lit a cigar, began to discuss the situation. 

“Now is the time,” said the prime-minister, “we need a loyal 
rand devoted man— one who will risk his- life for our cause, if neces- 
•sary. Are you such a man?” 

“Undoubtedly; I hold my life of little value, if it can be devoted 
to the State. What is it you require me to do?” 

“Cromer has commenced his march,” said the prime-minister. 
“ We had the news two hours ago. He finds it impossible to utilize 
the railway, as our men have destroyed so many bridges that it 
would take his railway corps too long a time to replace tliem. 
Now, his force will take at least ten days to reach London, and in 
fact longer, if I succeed in embarrassing his movements as I intend 
to do. We have therefore suflacient time to withdraw the troops 
from Ireland.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


121 


" Has it occurred to you,” said Helper, that if Saxborough com- 
mences to retire from his position through the tunnel the Irish can 
let in the water and drown the troops? The sea, with its tremen- 
dous weight and pressure, would fill the tunnel much more rapidly 
than a train could pass through it.” 

“I have thought of that,” said the prime-minister; “and we have 
determined to leave three battalions intrenched at the mouth of the 
tunnel, with orderc not to move till five hours after the other troops 
have started. After that, they may retire, and must run the risk of 
the enemy discovering their movements.” 

“But what part am I to play in this business?” inquired Arthur 
Helper. 

“We want you,” said the prime-minister, fixing his eyes upon 
Helper’s countenance — “we want you to take the heat and burden 
of the affair. Your battalion is in a most efficient state, thanks to 
your exertions ; but your services may be more valuable to us else- 
where. In short, we want you to start at once for Ireland; take this 
private despatch to Lord Saxborough, who will be ordered to place 
you in command of the rear-guard the day he commences the re- 
treat. We do not deny that it involves great danger — perhaps your 
death — but you are the only man we can rely upon, if you give your 
word to hold out till the troops have reached English soil, and the 
five hours have expired.” 

Helper realized in a moment the danger of the situation. A few 
hours before he would have jumped at the offer; but now, some- 
how, it seemed so hard to throw away his life. The sweet words of 
Blanche’s good-bye were ringing in his e^rs, and they unnerved him, 
as he thought he had seen her for the last time. 

“You hesitate!” said Mr. Cumbermore to the young officer; “I 
will find some other brave man for the purpose.” 

“No, no!” exclaimed Arthur, starting from his seat, and placing 
his fingers between his collar and his neck, as if the former was 
choking him. “No, no; I will go!” 

‘ ‘ There is no time to be lost. When will you start?” said Metrale. 

“Now, if necessary.” 

“ It is now half-past four,” said Metrale; “the mail starts at 8.15. 
Here is the despatch for Lord Saxborough.” 

“Thanks,” said Arthur, taking the document and placing it in 
his breast; “yoiH* orders shall be carried out to the letter.” 


122 


OUR RADICALS. 


“We can trust you?” said the prime-minister, inquiringly. 

“My life on it,” said Belper. 

“You are a brave fellow,” said the prime-minister, taking Bel- 
per’s hand; “you will win your reward.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

After the departure of the prime-minister and Colonel Metrale, 
Belper lost no time in making the necessary preparations for his 
journey. Leaving Eugene to finish the work, Belper sat himself 
down to write a letter to Lady Tryington, in which he said that he 
had been suddenly ordered to Ireland, thanking them for all their 
past kindness to him, and expressing a hope that he would soon 
have the pleasure of seeing them again. 

Then he sat down and lit a cigar. His thoughts naturally turned 
upon the events which had so rapidly followed each other during 
the last few months. He — the man who had always expressed an 
antipathy to matrimony — had only a few minutes before wavered, 
when called upon to act for his country, on account of his love for 
a woman. How Digby would laugh when he heard it! If he ever 
clasped hands again with his old friend, how willingly would he pay 
the £500 he had wagered upon his matrimonial prospects! As the 
smoke curled from his cigar into the air, he sat building castles of 
fancy. He thought how he would accomplish his mission — defend 
the mouth of the tunnel until the troops had reached England, and 
then, bringing his men over in safety, he would arrive in time to 
defeat Lord Cromer, and intercede with Cumbermore for the life of 
his friend Digby. 

How pleasant it would be to welcome his friend to a pleasant 
home, after his marriage— his marriage with Blanche ! How sweet 
she would look, and how happy they would be! 

Dreams! pleasant dreams! And the moments passed rapidly by 
as he sat in a reverie, with his eyes half closed. The clock on the 
mantelpiece struck seven. 

“Your brougham is at the gate, captain,” said a servant, entering 
the room, and carrying away his master’s luggage. 

Buckling his sword-belt around his waist, Belper descended the 


OUR RADICALS. 


123 


stairs, and, passing through the courtyard, reached the gate at which 
his carriage stood. 

There were very few passengers by the mail, as the difficulties of 
travelling in Ireland were much increased by the strict regulations 
imposed by the English general. 

The only way of reaching Ireland was by steamers or sailing- 
vessels from Holyhead ; but on account of the number of ships em- 
ployed by the government in bringing back the troops from India, it 
was difficult to procure a passage. There was one passenger in the 
same compartment with Arthur, who was dressed as a minister, and 
who alighted at the junction for Meltingborough. 

Helper avoided getting into conversation with him, although the 
stranger made several overtures; and it was a great relief to find 
himself alone, and able to take an hour’s sleep. 

The train rushed onward, through districts which a few years be- 
fore had been resplendent with the furnaces of factories in every direc- 
tion ; but the factories were now dark and apparently uninhabited. 
This indeed was the case; for since America had developed her min- 
ing and coaling industries, she had been able to undersell England in 
her own markets, the result being that thousands of men were thrown 
out of employment, and factories were closed and fallen into ruins. 

The old country seemed played out, and those who had capital 
took it elsewhere. 

As the train stopped for five minutes at the last station but one 
from Holyhead, to allow the collector to take the tickets, four per- 
sons entered Arthur’s compartment. 

“There is only one passenger,” said a voice, which was undoubt- 
edly Sullivan’s. “Come in here, Maggie, and tell Lambourue to 
make haste.” 

It was the very night the Fenians had arranged to leave the Sham- 
rock, on the pretence of returning to London. Arthur took no 
notice of the strangers, after the first glance; but, covering himself 
with the travelling-rug again, sank into a deep sleep. Sullivan 
looked at him with a scrutinizing glance, for the officer’s uniform 
which Helper wore attracted his attention. 

“ An officer,” he said, in an undertone, to Maggie. “ See, he has 
a sword on the rack, and a helmet-case.” 

‘ ‘ Stop !” said Maggie. ‘ ‘ There is a luggage-label attached. I can 
read the name with ease.” 


124 


OUR RADICALS. 


Noiselessly removing the case from the net, she held it beneath the 
lamp which illuminated the carriage. 

“Captain Belper!” she exclaimed. “Why this is the man who 
saved Eugene’s life!” 

“ What strange chance has brought him here?” 

In the helmet-case Belper had placed the despatch he was convey- 
ing to Lord Saxborough ; and as Sullivan opened the case by means 
of a spring, he discovered the document. 

“What have we here?” he said, dividing the edge of the paper, 
and removing the enclosure. 

“ The English troops are to leave Ireland immediately, and at all 
hazards. They are to return to London, to resist Cromer’s attack. 
The tunnel is to be destroyed on the English side of the water, and 
Captain Belper is to command the rear-guard.” 

“ I should not be surprised, ” he added, as he replaced the docu- 
ment, after having gummed the edges of the envelope where he had 
divided it — “ I should not be surprised if it were destroyed just a 
little before the time appointed.” 

“ This is the man who protected Eugene,” said Maggie. 

“We shall deal with him by and by,” said Sullivan. 

The train stopped at a small siding as Sullivan finished speaking. 
This was the last station before descending the incline which led to 
the tunnel under the sea. 

The four Fenians left the carriage, and walked in the direction of 
the harbor. 

Smoothly and steadily the train descended until it reached the 
mouth of the tunnel, when the pace was perceptibly increased. The 
submarine passage was brilliantly lit up by electricity, and well ven- 
tilated. So easily was the journey performed that Arthur did not 
recover consciousness until the train stopped at the terminus on the 
Irish coast. They were no longer below the water, but in a large 
station, filled with ofiicers and soldiers in full uniform. The station 
had been selected by Lord Saxborough as his headquarters, his lines 
of defence extending from the coast to a fort about two miles from 
the seashore. 

Captain Belper inquired for Lord Saxborough’s quarters, and, fol- 
lowing the direction indicated, asked an officer in comrhand of a 
guard whether his lordship was visible. 

“ What shall I say your business is?” asked the officer. 


OUR RADICALS. 


125 


“ Say Captain Belper, of the 21st Dragoon Gr^ards, is waiting to 
see his lordship, as the hearer of despatches from the prime-minis- 
ter.” 

The oflflcer disappeared, and presently returned accompanied by a 
short but dignified individual, whom Belper at once recognized as 
the famous general. 

Belper saluted his superior officer, and then, handing Lord Sax- 
borough the despatch, awaited his instructions. 

The general tore open the envelope without noticing that it had 
been tampered with, and carefully read the enclosure. The old gen- 
eral’s brows contracted as he did so, and in an undertone he was 
heard to say . 

“ Just as I had my arrangements complete for attacking the enemy 
— what an imbecile government! You are Captain Belper, I pre- 
sume?” said the general, aloud. “I see the prime-minister wishes 
you to have the command of the two battalions that will form my 
rear-guard. I shall have to leave four battalions for that purpose. 
Have you ever commanded a brigade. Captain Belper?” 

“ Not in the field, general.” 

“ Ah, well, the responsibility of appointing you to so important a 
position must rest in other hands than mine. My orders are to ap- 
point you to command the rear-guard. Will you breakfast with me 
at ten o’clock, and I shall have more to say to you.” 

Arthur, who accepted the invitation, subsequently found Lord Sax- 
borough to be a much more agreeable man than his first interview 
had led him to suppose. A strict disciplinarian while on duty, he 
could unbend, however, in private life, and be very agreeable. 

“ You have a serious business to perform,” said the general, as he 
left his presence; “ and from all accounts you are likely to behave 
nobly in the face of danger or death.” 

“I only serve my country,” said Belper; and as he spoke his 
hand pressed the crumpled leaves of a small red rose hidden in his 
breast. 


126 


OUR RADICALS. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

The four Fenians, on leaving the train in which Belper had trav- 
elled from London, made at once for the harbor. Here Sullivan, 
standing by the waterside, made the usual signal, which was an- 
swered in a few minutes; and the sound of oars could be heard as a 
boat appeared, rowed by a solitary sailor. Sullivan entered the 
boat, followed by his companions, and in a quarter of an hour they 
were all on board the little brig. 

“ There is a woman waiting to see you below,” said a man, com- 
ing forward and touching his hat to Sullivan. “ She is the wife of 
the proprietor of the Shamrock, and as she gave the signal, we ad- 
mitted her.” 

“I will see her at once,” replied the Fenian leader, leaving his 
friends and proceeding to the cabin. 

‘^Everything is satisfactory,” said Mrs. Whilcr, on seeing Sulli- 
van. ‘ ‘ I have been to the cottage, and they are all to pay me a visit 
to-morrow night, and stay till the next morning. The coastguards- 
man himself cannot leave his work.” 

“ Then we shall have to use force,” said Sullivan. 

“ I don’t know about that. I am going there to tea first, and if I 
have the opportunity to drug him, I will. They will not think there 
is anything wrong, as he always sleeps an hour after tea.” 

“If you can do it, so much the better; it will save the man’s life, 
and our own work could be safely performed while he is asleep.” 

“ At what time do you propose to begin operations?” 

“ At about eleven to-morrow night. I shall leave Maggie here, as 
she will be of no use in the work we have before us. The battery 
can be taken to pieces, and Lambourne and myself can easily carry 
it, as well as the necessary cords. By about one in the morning the 
wires will be connected; and if the English 'engineering officers have 
done their work satisfactorily, we shall then blow up the tunnel, and 
cut off Saxborough from any hope of retreat.” 

“ What will you do after the explosion?” inquired the woman. 


OUR RADICALS. 


127 


“ Return here, and make our way back to London as soon as pos- 
sible.” 

“ Have you any opium on board? It would not do to purchase 
any from a chemist.” 

“ For what purpose?” 

“ For the drug.” 

“ No; we have no opium, but something more effective.” 

Sullivan went to a small cupboard, and, opening it, produced a 
paper packet. 

“ If you can administer that, it will have the desired effect,” said 
Sullivan, handing her the drug. “ It is not perceptible to the taste,* 
or poisonous.” 

As Mrs, Wliiler left the cabin, Maggie entered. 

“ I have a letter from Barry, ’’said Sullivan. “ He says you are 
to make for Meltingborough at once, and ingratiate yourself with 
Sir Richard Digby. He will remember you as being saved by his 
yacht; and ‘you can state that you are in distress, and need his help. 
Then watch your opportunity, and make use of it.” 

“ I will go,” said Maggie, sulkily, and left the cabin. 

“ I wonder if she is to be trusted,” said Sullivan to himself, when 
he was alone. “ I wonder if she is to be trusted. Her manners are 
very strange — or I fancy they are. However, it would be a bad day 
for her if she betrayed us. You can never trust these women — they 
are so full of sentiment.” 

At the appointed time Sullivan and his companion appeared at 
the coastguardsman’s cottage, in the window of which a light was 
burning. Approaching the casement cautiously, the chief conspira- 
tor looked through the glass, and then beckoned to his companions, 
who were waiting in the distance. 

They could see the coastguardsman sitting in a chair by the 
hearth, fast asleep. 

“ All is right,” said Sullivan; “ come along.” 

They entered the cottage, and the first thing that met their gaze 
was a small, round table, on which stood some bread-and-butter and 
a metal teapot, which Sullivan found, on placing his hand upon it, 
to be still warm. 

“Now for the cellar,” said Sullivan, taking up a lighted candle 
and descending a flight of steps which undoubtedly led in that di- 
rection. 


128 


OUR RADICALS. 


They were now about twelve feet below the ground-floor, and, 
looking round, Sullivan discovered a trap-door, which he tried to 
raise. It would not, however, yield to his efforts, and, looking care- 
fully at it, he found that it was held by a padlock. Producing a 
wrench, he forced open the door, and it was then clear that they had 
found the well they were in search of. Fixing a rope-ladder at the 
top, he proceeded to descend by it, and in a few minutes his com-' 
panions knew that he had reached the bottom by the steadiness of 
the light he held in his hand. His accomplices immediately joined 
him at the bottom of the pit. Producing his plan, Sullivan directed 
Lambourne to dig in the place he pointed out. The soil had evi- 
dently been turned — and not very long before — and this discovery 
inspired the conspirators with hope. Presently a metallic sound 
-was heard, and Sullivan placed his hand on his companion’s arm. 

“ Steady!” he said; “ be careful; you are on the pipes.” 

This proved to be correct; and, after scraping away some more 
earth, several tubes, each of them about two inches in diameter,- 
were exposed to view. 

“Now, the question is,” said Sullivan, “which of the wires are 
connected with the mine?” 

Breaking the burnt-clay tubings with a small hammer, and taking 
a small electric instrument from his pocket, he placed it in contact 
with one of the wires. 

“This is no use,” said Sullivan; “it runs about ninety miles, 
probably to Dublin.” 

As he spoke a clicking sound was heard, and, looking at a small 
hand on the face of his instrument, he saw that it was oscillating 
violently. 

“ Only attend to its movements for a minute,” the conspirator 
remarked. “Our fellows are wiring to each other over the Chan- 
nel; this wire is in connection with the one they are employing, and 
my instrument is repeating the communications. If I could arouse 
their attention, I might be able to communicate with the American 
general; but, now to try the other wires.” 

They were each of them tested in turn, and placed in connection 
with the battery, but there was no satisfactory result. Sullivan’s 
, face wore a troubled expression. 

“Perhaps there are some other wires,” said Lambourne; and. 
digging a little deeper, his spade again struck something hard, 


OUR RADICALS. 


129 


“Another tube!” he cried, triumphantly. “Look, Sullivan!” 

It appeared that this time they had found the object of their search. 

Sullivan immediately attached the wires to his battery, and then 
brought the ends into connection. 

“What has happened?” said Lambourne, after a few minutes’ 
suspense. 

“What has happened?” replied Sullivan, angrily. “Why, the 
tunnel is not mined at all ! or the engineers have made some blunder. 
We are here on a false errand; and, as to blowing up the tunnel, not 
all the military engineers in the kingdom could do it, for there is no 
explosive in connection with the wires!” 

“What shall we do?” inquired Lambourne. 

Sullivan did not give an immediate reply. 

Detaching his instrument from the wires, he placed it in connec- 
tion with the first line that had been discovered, and which, by some 
accident, touched the wire by which the Fenians in Ireland were 
telegraphing. 

Turning the handle of his battery rapidly, he looked anxiously at 
the face of the instrument. 

“ It is no use,” he said; “the current is too slight. I shall never 
attract their attention.” 

“ Look, the hand is moving!” exclaimed Lambourne. 

“ So it is,” said Sullivan; and, rapidly turning the handle, he com- 
menced telegraphing to the unknown people on the other side of the 
Channel. 

“It must be from Dublin, and Dublin is in the hands of the 
National army,” said Sullivan. 

The four letters sent by the conspirator made up the word used 
by the Fenians as a means of recognizing each other. 

They were at once answered by some passwords known only to 
those initiated into the secrets of the societies. He soon learned 
that the operator in Dublin, whoever he might be, was as high up 
in the brotherhood as himself, and, in another minute, he found 
that he was in communication with a superior. 

“What are you doing?” was the interrogation sent from Dublin. 

Sullivan explained their situation, and their intention of destroy- 
ing the tunnel. 

“Stay where you are,” was the return message, “until I have 
communicated with General Stephens.” 

9 


130 


OUR RADICALS. 


“General Stephens is the commander of the American contin- 
gent,” said Sullivan to his companions. 

“ The hand is turning again,” said Lambourne. 

Sullivan read as follows : 

“A battle is going on at the present moment. The English are 
retreating through the tunnel. They have left a rear-guard to de- 
fend its mouth. Stephens is trying to force their intrenched posi- 
tion. If he does so, we can flood the tunnel from our side, and 
drown the retreating army; but if not, all we can hope for is to 
destroy or take prisoners the rear-guard. Cannot you block the 
line and detain the leading train?” 

“We have no chance of entering the tunnel,” replied Sullivan. 
“ By this time the station is full of people making preparations for 
the arrival of Saxborough’s forces. We will, however, do our 
best. ” 

“Come with me,” continued Sullivan, this time addressing his 
companions. “ Pick up the tools, and cover the wires with earth.” 

Sullivan led the way to the room above, where the coastguards- 
man was still sleeping soundly, absolutely unconscious of all that 
was going on around him. 

“Take off his uniform,” said Sullivan to Lambourne, pointing to 
the sleeper. 

Rapidly attiring himself in the slumberer’s garments, and taking 
his hat from a peg behind the door, Sullivan left the cottage, closely 
followed by his companions. 

“Take the battery and instruments back to the brig,” Sullivan 
said, when they were outside the door. “ I shall not require you 
any more. What has to be done must be accomplished by myself 
alone.” 

Leaving his companions, Sullivan walked to the Channel Tunnel 
Station. He found every one, as he had anticipated, in a great st^ate 
of excitement. The. place was crowded with guards and porters, 
and a company of soldiers were drawn up outside the building to 
prevent idlers from entering the station. 

Sullivan’s uniform was the means of admitting him to the plat- 
form, and, approaching a 'guard, he inquired when the first train 
was expected to arrive. 

“Don’t know for certain,” said the ofliicial, “but they could tell 
you in the lookout.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


131 


There, at the end of the station, stood a dome-shaped building 
with a glass roof. Since the use of electricity had become general 
the railway companies, to secure themselves as far as possible 
against accidents, had built observatories near the principal sta- 
tions, which enabled the superintendents to see at a glance the 
position of every train in motion. It was done in this way. A 
model of the line, on a very reduced scale, was constructed in these 
observatories, and on this model diminutive trains were placed. A 
current of electricity was kept up between the trains that were run- 
ning and the model, the electricity being transmitted through the 
rails. As this was effected, the diminutive engines moved on the 
model in exactly the same way as the real trains were moving on 
the lines. The superintendent, therefore, could see at a glance the 
position of every train, and avert the danger of a collision by him- 
self communicating with the guards, if necessary. This he could 
do by availing himself of the rails as a conductor for his battery, a 
similar battery being in the van reserved for the guard. 

In the Channel Tunnel Railway this method had been so accu- 
rately developed that pointsmen and signalmen had been completely 
superseded by an automatic arrangement in connection with the 
observatory of the superintendent. 

This official was not only able to see the position of every train, 
but was enabled, besides, to turn the points at the right moment all 
up and down the line by moving the miniature points on the model ; 
and, by means of electricity, the real points would be instantly af- 
fected in a similar manner. 

Sullivan had often heard of this new invention, but he had never 
seen it at work, and as he opened the door of the observatory he 
was much struck by the absence of noise and the apparent ease 
with which the operator manipulated his instruments. 

“Can you tell me when the first troop train will arrive?” said 
Sullivan. 

The superintendent glanced at him, and then at his attire. He 
knew the old coastguardsman well, and was surprised to see a new 
official. 

“ What has happened to your mate?” said the man. 

“He has gone away for a week’s leave,” said Sullivan, “and I 
have been sent here to relieve him.” 

“Do you expect any one by the train?” 


133 


OUR RADICALS. 


“Yes; my brother. I thought he might be returning by the first 
train with his regiment.” 

“The first train to arrive will contain the Royal Muddleborough 
Regiment of Light Infantry.” 

“ Would you let me see the train on the model?” said Sullivan. 

Now, to comply with this request was strictly contrary to the 
rules of the company; but as Sullivan was dressed as a coastguards- 
man, and as the railway people were constantly brought into contact 
with these oflicials, the superintendent saw no harm in doing so. 

“ Well — yes,” said the official. “ There is the train.” 

Sullivan followed the superintendent’s finger, and he saw a di- 
minutive train moving through the tunnel, followed closely by 
twenty other trains, none of them more than one mile distant from 
each other, although on the model they were not more than one inch 
apart. 

“We have had very hard work all this evening,” said the oflflcial, 
in a confidential tone. “ See, all these trains travelling in the oppo- 
site direction are to bring back the remainder of the troops. We 
have had to* send every available carriage. ” 

“How do the trains pass each other?” said Sullivan, becoming 
interested in the conversation. 

“Very easily,” said the other. “You see there is only a single 
line; but at certain places in the tunnel we have sidings — see here! 
All I have to do is to touch this instrument; and as the empty trains 
are shunted on to the loops, the troop trains continue their journey. 
In another minute I shall press the spring, See, I am about to 
do it.” 

The idea had already fiashed through Sullivan’s mind that' here 
was an opportunity not to be lost. 

He was alone with the superintendent of the model, and from the 
platforms it was impossible that the porters and guards could see 
them, even if they had time to look. 

The Fenian felt in his pocket for a weapon. He had only a 
heavy loaded pistol; but to fire it would be fatal to his designs. The 
only course to pursue was to club it, and stun the man in charge of 
the model. 

Once thought of, to put the idea into practice was the work of a 
moment. He brought the weapon sharply down upon the head of 
the unfortunate official, who fell senseless at the second blow. 


OUR RADICALS. 


133 


Sullivan looked anxiously round, but nothing had been heard by 
the people outside the observatory. Fixing his eyes on the model, 
he eagerly watched the long lines of diminutive trains as they ap- 
proached each other. They were now not more than an inch 
apart. 

The conspirator calculated that, allowing about an inch to the 
mile, as the superintendent had stated, there would be a collision in 
a few seconds ; and as the trains were travelling between thirty and 
forty miles an hour, the result would be fatal to those travelling in 
the carriages. Over and above this, the line would be blocked by 
the accident, and the progress of the troops rendered impossible. 

With eyes keenly bent on the model before him, he awaited the 
supreme moment. It came at last. The two engines darted into 
each other. On the model, all that the Fenian could see was that 
the diminutive trains were stationary, while behind them, and at in- 
tervals of from two to three inches, other trains were approaching 
from contrary directions. 

He was turning to leave the observatory, when his eyes fell on an 
apparatus in one corner of the room, and a printed card was attached 
to the wall above it, containing instructions as to the regulation of 
the lights in the tunnel. 

A fiendish thought passed through the Fenian’s mind. 

“ Why let them see their misery?” he said. “Why not put them 
in darkness?” And without waiting a moment more to consider, he 
turned off the electricity. 

Leaving the observatory without detection, Sullivan walked rapid- 
ly through the station, and proceeded at once to the coastguards- 
man’s cottage. On arriving there he lost no time in shaking off 
the uniform, and dressing the sleeper as he had been attired be- 
fore. 

Then, in the dead of the night, while his wretched victims were 
perishing under the sea, he hastened back to Holyhead harbor and 
gave the signal for the boat to come ashore. 


134 


OUR RADICALS. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

• The arrangements for the retreat of his army had been made with 
great care by Lord Saxborough. The intended movements were 
only known to a few of his trusted officers. The British troops had 
been defeated by the Americans and Irish, and Dublin had been 
taken by the enemy; but as the prime-minister had declared his in- 
tention at last of upholding the authority of the sovereign in Ire- 
land, it was supposed that reinforcements would be sent, and the 
campaign carried on. Mr. Cumbermore had said that there might be 
evils to remedy, so far as the relations of England and Ireland were 
concerned, and that he would be ready to approach that question in 
time with a liberal and temperate hand, healing every sore and bind- 
ing up every wound. Let the Irish lay down their arms, and trust 
to the good-sense and impartiality of the prime-minister, and then 
matters would come to a satisfactory issue. 

Those who knew the prime-minister best placed very little reliance 
on his assertions, especially the senior officers under Lord Sax- 
borough. They had formerly served in Afghanistan and South 
Africa, and had some recollection of similar promises, with no re- 
sults. The government had announced long before, in the Queen’s 
Speech, its intention of vindicating the sovereign’s honor in the 
Transvaal; but three successive defeats had toned down the ardor of 
the prime-minister, and he had declared that so much bloodshed was 
more than his conscience could bear, and he must therefore surren- 
der the Transvaal. 

Belper, who was personally acquainted with many of the officers 
in Lord Saxborough’s force, heard these disgraceful reflections on 
the character of the prime-minister with regret. Rightly or wrong- 
ly he was devoted to the cause of the prime-minister, and to hear 
older officers ventilate their views in such a disheartening manner 
was not calculated to encourage him in his arduous undertaking. 
Lord Saxborough had published, in general orders, that Captain- 
now Colonel — Belper was to take command of a brigade of light 


OUR RADICALS. 


135 


infantry, and that he was to have the local rtink of major-general. 
At the same time it was announced that all commanding officers 
were to see that their men had an extra ration of bread and meat 
served out to them at seven in the evening. 

The prevailing opinion was that an attack was to be made on the 
enemy without waiting for reinforcements. Belper, who had walked 
round the outer lines of defence, informed the general that it was im- 
possible to hold out under existing circumstances for five hours with 
the brigade under his command, and had drawn up a plan for form- 
ing an inner line of intrenchments, which w’ere immediately com- 
menced at the mouth of the tunnel. A meeting of the commanding 
officers was held in Lord Saxborough’s tent, when the general in- 
formed them of his intention to retreat at once, and gave his final 
orders to Belper. He was to defend the mouth of the tunnel at all 
costs, until a telegram reached him to say that the main body had ar- 
rived on the English coast. By that time a suflicient number of 
trains would have arrived at the Irish Tunnel Station to convey his 
men back to England, when he would have to retire as he thought 
best. 

Belper, with his brigade, occupied the position he had selected, at 
the same time covering with a small body of men the advanced lines, 
to induce the enemy to believe that no movement was taking place 
in the English camp. These outposts were to watch the enemy’s 
movements and report to Belper, In the meantime train after train 
was filled with troops, and at 2 a.m. Arthur received the news that 
the main body had started for England. 

It was an anxious moment. Would General Stephens attack his 
position before daybreak? If he became aware of the English re- 
treat, doubtless he would ; and then, should Belper be unable to re- 
sist the attack, the flower of the English army would perish in the 
tunnel, for the enemy would be sure to flood it. 

On the other hand, it was a splendid opportunity for Belper to 
distinguish himself, should the Irish make the attack ; and he was 
not without some hope that they would do so. 

He walked about in the centre of the first line of intrenchments, 
encouraging the men with kind words, and consulting with the 
officers standing about. 

From the first line of intrenchments the ground sloped for about 
one hundi-ed yards, and up to that distance the enemy could ap- 


136 


OUR RADICALS. 


proach with tolerable security; for Belper could not weaken his de- 
fending force by extending his men in a wider line. Once, however, 
at the bottom of the slope, the enemy would have to sustain the full 
effect of the English soldiers’ fire before they could carry the posi- 
tion. 

In Arthur’s battalions there were not more than fifteen hundred 
fighting men ; but then they were picked shots, and to every company 
there was attached one of the new machine-guns which had recently 
been adopted by order of the board at the War Office. 

The position occupied by Belper was in form like a half-moon, the 
two ends pointing towards the sea, and the centre of the circumfer- 
ence facing the enemy’s position. The machine-guns had been 
placed at the two sides of the half-moon, so that its destructive 
powers could be brought to bear upon the flank of the enemy as well 
as the front. 

It was as much as the three battalions could do to occupy the po- 
sition ; and Belper, to his annoyance, found that he could not afford 
a reserve, but would have, to push every available man to the front 
in case of an attack. 

There was a second line of intrenchments about two hundred 
yards from the tunnel, and they might be held, even if the first po- 
sition was successfully stormed ; but should this be carried too, not 
an Englishman would be left alive. 

The men were lying in their places behind the earthworks, 
wrapped in their greatcoats, and with cartridge-boxes holding five 
hundred rounds of ammunition foY pillows. They were sleeping 
tranquilly, and dreaming, perhaps, of wives and friends in England ; 
of battle-fields in India and Africa; of the day when they first smelt 
powder; of the shells that had fallen in their midst; of the inces- 
sant firing; of the smoke and confusion; of their dead comrades; 
and of the hurrahs that followed a successful field. There were 
few among them who had not learned to be as indifferent to the 
whistle of the bullet as to the peas shot from the mouth of some 
truant schoolboy, and there was not an officer or man there who 
quailed at the peril of his position. 

On the eve of a battle officers and men — for difference of rank 
does not prevent the sergeant, corporal, and private from having the 
same thoughts as the colonel, captain, and ensign — think, many of 
them for the last time, of the dear old place at home, and the hearts 


OTTB, RADICALS. 


137 


that are beating for them, and the faces that are waiting to welcome 
them back. 

Belper could not put Blanche’s sweet face out of his mind, and the 
officers noticed that he walked about with his hand pressed close 
against his breast; but they did not know that it rested lovingly 
upon a small red rose that had been given him by the hand of a 
woman. 

An officer, who had been sent forward with the advanced parties, 
was seen galloping back to the intrenchments. 

“The enemy is marching upon us in columns. Their numbers 
are great, but they seem indifferently armed.” 

Belper looked at his watch. It was two hours to daybreak. 

A few shots were heard, and it was known that the enemy were 
coming within range. 

“Return, if you please, sir,” said Belper, “and gradually draw 
in your men, that they may fall back firing when they see an oppor- 
tunity.” To an aide-de-camp he said: “Take this; and desire each 
of the commanding officers of the two flank regiments to send for- 
ward two machine-guns.” 

Belper thought that the rapidity of the firing would make the 
enemy overestimate their force. The firing became general, and it 
was evident that the enemy were advancing rapidly, and that the 
advanced parties were retiring. Belper had given strict orders that 
his men were to fire low, and not to waste their ammunition. The 
firing became incessant. The Irish brigade, which led the attack, 
had already advanced as far as the ground lately occupied by Lord 
Saxborough’s encampment, the green tunics worn by the men look- 
ing quite black in the gray light of the dawn. On arriving at the 
open space which separated them from the British troops, there was 
a moment of hesitation. It was not pleasant to run the gauntlet 
over a rising piece of ground, three hundred yards in length, ex- 
posed to the fire of a concealed foe. The Fenian general, although 
he was aware that Lord Saxborough was retreating, had no means 
of ascertaining the strength of the rearguard of the English army. 
General Stephens’s army numbered some thirty thousand men, but 
they were not well armed or disciplined, many of them carrying 
scythes in default of better weapons; but their hearts were in their 
work, and whither they were led they would follow. 

Calling his officers together, Stephens ordered half of his force to 


138 


OXJR RADICALS. 


attack the position on one flank, while the remainder attacked it on 
the other, the objective points being the two eminences where Bel- 
per had placed his machine-guns. 

A rearguard was to attack the position from the front, but not 
until the side movements had been accomplished, by which arrange- 
ment the general imagined that much of the firing would be drawn 
from that part of the intrenchment. 

It was still dark, and, a sea-fog rising from the waves, facilitated 
General Stephens’s movements considerably, as he was enabled to 
advance under cover of the pervading gloom. Suddenly, to the 
general’s great discomfiture, a piercing light was thrown on the at- 
tacking forces. Belper had foreseen that in the darkness the fire 
of the English soldiers would not have the desired effect; he had 
therefore ordered the electric light to be turned on to its full power, 
thus lighting up the whole situation, 

“Curse the fellow!” exclaimed General Stephens; “but it will 
not do to wait.” 

He gave the word to attack, and from either side the rebel battal- 
ions rushed upon the intrenchment; now throwing themselves on 
the ground, then rushing forward again a few yards, directing all 
the time an irregular fire upon the English soldiers. An English 
officer at once opened fire with the^machine-guns. 

“ Stop!” cried Belper. “Tell him to keep the machine-guns in 
reserve.” \ 

The firing became incessant; the heavy cloud of smoke that rose 
in the air greatly assisting the advance of the rebels. 

Already hundreds of slain covered the open space. Belper’s 
men, confident in their steady fire, and with an immense supply of 
cartridges at their disposal, were congratulating themselves upon 
having worked such havoc among the foe. Suddenly, a wild shout 
in front of the intrenchment attracted their attention. It came from 
the Irish force, as they rushed to the attack in front of the intrench- 
ment. At the same moment General Stephens redoubled his efforts 
on the flank. 

“Now for the machine-guns!” shouted Belper, 

The order was at once obeyed, and the yells and cries of the Irish 
filled the air as they were mowed down by the new weapons of de- 
struction. The rear, unaware of the terrible destruction among the 
advanced battalions, pushed forward to the attack. 


OUR RADICALS. 


139 


“By Heaven!” exclaimed General Stephens, “they are advancing 
in columns. If the English can maintain their fire, we are lost.” 

Three times had Stephens’s force rushed upon Belper’s position, 
and three times the rapid fire of the English troops had raised a 
barricade of dead bodies between themselves and their assailants. 

“I will make one last effort,” said the Irish leader; and, placing 
himself at the head of some battalions that had not yet suffered by 
the fire, he gallantly led them to the assault. 

“Ireland forever!” shouted the attacking force; and, with wild 
hurrahs, they darted across the broken ground. The carnage in 
their ranks was tremendous; but still they pushed forward under 
the terrific fire, until a shot struck their leader full in the breast. 
He reeled in his saddle, waved his sword once towards the intrench- 
ments, and fell senseless. A moment of hesitation was apparent 
among his followers, and Belper, seizing the opportunity, without 
considering that he had only three battalions, compared to the vast 
number of his foes, gave the order to charge the enemy. The Eng- 
lish troops sprang from their intrenchments with bayonets fixed 
and rushed upon the enemy. The effect was instantaneous; for 
the Irish, discouraged at the fall of their leader, and at the disastrous 
effect of the English fire, turned and fled, and Belper, after pursuing 
them for a short distance, and killing several thousands in the at- 
tack, returned to his original position. 

The day was over : the fight was won. Belper discovered, to his 
great satisfaction, that very few casualties had occurred among his 
forces. Elated with success, Belper sat down to make a statement 
of the battle, and to await a telegram from Lord Saxborough to say 
that the main body had reached the shores of England. 


CHAPTER XXXHI. 

Maggie had reached Meltingborough by this time, where she 
heard that Lord Cromer and Sir Richard Digby had left the castle, 
some days before, with a large army of volunteers. They numbered 
in all fifty thousand men, besides a few cavalry regiments and some 
artillery. Everywhere Cromer’s army had been received with en- 
thusiasm by the people, and he was looked upon as their deliverer 


140 


OUR RADICALS. 


from starvation and every other evil that had followed the action of 
the present government. It was well known that his movement was 
not aimed against the sovereign, but against the government, which 
refused to give up the reins of power in spite of the wishes of the 
electors. 

Maggie followed the army in a carriage, and in a few days she fell 
in with them. They were not forty miles from London, and they 
had met with no opposition. 

It was night when she arrived. The streets were all illuminated 
in honor of Lord Cromer and his army. The general and Sir Rich- 
ard Digby were being entertained at dinner by the mayor of the town. 

Asking a bystander where she would find the headquarters of 
Lord Cromer, and finding that he had taken up his quarters at the 
Bell Hotel, she proceeded in that direction, 

On arriving, Maggie inquired of the proprietor if she could have 
a room. 

“ If I had twice as many rooms, they would all be occupied. I 
have had to refuse even Sir Richard Digby only a few hours ago; 
and he had just returned from making a reconnaissance, after being 
two days in the saddle.” 

“ Where has Sir Richard gone to?” inquired Maggie. 

“To the Plough Inn— a humble but respectable little place,” an- 
swered the proprietor of the hotel; “but he only sleeps there: he 
will have his meals here with Lord Cromer.” 

“Thank you,” said Maggie. “ I will go to the Plough; perhaps 
they can accommodate me.” 

She secured a room on the ground-floor, the window of which 
looked upon an extensive garden. 

“ The first and second floors are occupied,” said the landlord; “but 
when the troops are gone I can give you better accommodation.” 

Once left alone, Maggie threw herself down upon a sofa near the 
open window, and looked out into the garden. 

It was a lovely night. The air was warm, and a faint twitter from 
some wakeful bird was the only sound that broke the stillness. 

From a summer-house, only a few yards from the window, came 
the sound of voices after a while ; and a faint cloud of smoke would 
steal occasionally into the air from the cigars of the speakers. 

She listened attentively, but could not hear what was being said. 
A glass door opened from the room into the garden; and she could 


OUR RADICALS. 


141 


see by the moonlight a large oak-tree near the summer-house, and 
around the stem of this tree a rude seat had been constructed. 

Opening the door as quietly as possible, she walked to the seat 
unobserved, and listened again. This time she could hear the words 
that were spoken, and she started as she recognized the voices of 
Lord Cromer and Sir Richard Digby. They had been dining with 
the mayor, and the general, wishing to have some private conversa- 
tion with his nephew, had accompanied him to his quarters. 

“You say that you rode within six miles of London?” 

“Yes; and I saw no outposts of any description; but I heard that 
Metrale was at his wits’ end, trying to raise two cavalry regiments.” 

“ How did the people receive you?” 

“Very well; on all sides I was asked when you would arrive 
before London. There is a rumor that some horrible disaster has 
happened to the British army in Ireland, but no one seems to know 
exactly what has occurred. I was so close to London that I was 
sorely tempted to ride to Lady Tryington’s house at Wimbledon, 
and learn some information that might be useful.” 

“ It is just as well you did not go,” observed the general. “ She 
is a great talker, and everybody in London would have heard of 
your visit in twelve hours.” 

“Arthur Belper has gone over to the enemy,” said Sir Richard 
Digby, regretfully. ‘ ‘ I cannot understand it, for he hates Radicalism 
at heart. There is a rumor that he has gone to Ireland to command 
a brigade.” 

“Loaves and fishes, perhaps!” said Lord Cromer, cynically. 

“He is not a man of that sort,” answered Sir Richard; “but I 
am glad he has gone to Ireland, as it will prevent us coming into 
collision.” 

“I wonder if he has taken that bastard with him!” ejaculated 
Lord Cromer. 

“If that boy had perished, Dick,” he continued, after a pause, 
“you would have been my heir.” 

“ It is a pity, uncle; but to give the young devil his due, he is not 
a bastard, but perfectly legitimate.” 

Maggie listened eagerly for every word that fell from their lips. 
They were evidently speaking of Eugene. 

She knew that the Fenians had stolen the child, in order that they 
might have a hold over Lord Cromer, and she now learned for the 


143 


OUR RADICALS. 


first time why the lad’s life had been spared. It was evident that 
should they kill the boy the conspirators would be rather advancing 
Lord Cromer’s interests than opposing them. 

“Could you see any likeness between him and any of the fam- 
ily?” said Lord Cromer. 

“Only about the eyes,” was the answer. 

“I would to God he had never been born!” exclaimed the general. 
“To think, Dick — to think that the child of a Parisian prostitute 
should inherit Cromer Castle! But it is useless to regret; and I 
must get back to my quarters.” 

“One moment,” said his nephew. “Do you think if Cumber- 
more withdraws the troops from Ireland that Saxborough will op- 
pose us?” 

“Impossible to say, my dear Dick; impossible to say. Lord Sax- 
borough is a good general, but he will go for the main chance. We 
must take London before he arrives. I shall offer him the olive- 
branch; and if he takes it we cjyi together recover our lost pos- 
sessions, and lift England once more out of the mire of Radicalism 
and dishonor.” 

“ When do we march?” 

“ To-morrow night. It will be cool for the troops, and we shall 
consequently cover more ground. Our next halting-place will be 
Windsor. Good-night, my boy.” 

The general, accompanied by two orderlies, who were waiting in 
the street, rode back to his quarters. 

Sir Richard finished his cigar and then returned to the inn. Mag- 
gie remained unobserved beneath the shadows of the old oak. She 
carefully watched the windows of the building, and presently a light 
appeared in the room adjacent to her own. - 

“How fortunate!” she exclaimed. “Now, if the Fates will help 
me this time! Yet, must I commit another crime? Ah! if these 
villains had not my own child in their power! But I must not stay 
to think, but. act.” 

Maggie rose from her seat and walked to her own room. Opening 
a chest of drawers, she drew out a packet of drugs. As she closed 
the drawer of the cabinet she observed that the piece of furniture 
half concealed a door w^hich led to the next apartment. Removing 
the cabinet, she tried the handle softly, but found that the door was 
locked. Stooping down, she looked through the keyhole. 


OUll RADICALS. 


143 


Sir Richard Digby had thrown himself into an arm-chair, and 
Maggie could see that he was looking affectionately at a locket, and 
that his eyes were filling with tears. Presently he rose, and placed 
it beside his bed ; and as he might be called at any moment during 
the night, he threw himself upon the couch to sleep without un- 
dressing. He blew out the candle and then settled himself to sleep. 

Maggie sat silently by the door, her ears ready to catch the slight- 
est sound. Soon the deep breathing of Sir Richard was heard, and 
Maggie knew that he was asleep. He had been thoroughly tfred 
out by his long ride. 

In one corner of the room a small table had stood, whieh Sir 
Richard had moved to his bedside, and upon which he had placed 
a water-bottle and a glass. An idea occurred to her that if she 
could only obtain access to the apartment and put the poisonous 
powder into the water her work would be done. The baronet would 
in all probability awake before the morning, and reaching out his 
hand for the bottle drink some of the contents. 

Waiting a little longer, she then opened the door of her room lead- 
ing to the passage. Everybody had gone to bed, and not a sound 
was to be heard. Taking off her shoes, in order to make as little 
noise as possible, she walked along the passage and tried the handle 
of Sir Richard Digby’s door. It turned in her grasp, and she gave 
a slight push. Stealthily creeping into the room, she reached the 
bedside, and carefully poured the poison into the water-bottle. The 
only light in the room was cast by the ribing moon through the 
uncurtained window. She looked carefully at the handsome coun- 
tenance of the sleeper, and tried in vain to recall the time when that 
face was well known to her. Her curiosity was aroused, and she 
took up the locket from the table and pressed the spring. 

She started back as her eyes fell upon the portrait, and clutched 
at the table to save herself from falling. The sudden movement 
awoke the sleeper. He rose instantly from the bed and snatched 
the locket from the intruder’s grasp. Something in the livid face 
of the Fenian woman arrested his attention, and he stood rooted to 
the spot. 

“ What are you here for?” he exclaimed. 

To his surprise the woman showed no sign of fear, and had com- 
pletely recovered her self-possession. 

“So you know her?” she exclaimed, pointing to the portrait. 
“ My own dear mistress I” 


144 


OUR RADICALS. 


“ Your mistress, woman!” said Sir Richard. “ What lie is this?” 

“ I am not telling a lie,” said Maggie, quietly. “If you will hear 
me, you will know that I speak the truth. If you have patience 
and wisdom you will hear it from the commencement.” 

The half- commanding, half -supplicating tone in which Maggie 
said these words struck the baronet forcibly; and in a kinder tone 
than he had yet spoken he said : 

“ Go on.” 

“ I am an Irishwoman,” she began. “ I w'as but sixteen when I 
fell in love with the chief of a secret society in Dublin. He re- 
turned my affection, and we were married. When we could strike 
a blow at England we did so; for I took up my husband’s cause, 
heart and soul. At last he was taken prisoner in trying to rescue 
others from a similar fate. He was tried in England, sentenced -to 
death, and hanged. I was mad with grief. The priest of our par- 
ish took pity on me and sent me to Spain, where I became an at- 
tendant in a convent. I went there with my child, and we were 
treated kindly by the Sisters in Seville. Gradually my health came 
round ; and in the quiet of the convent I sought for consolation in a 
religious life. One day a new nun arrived; Sister Ursula she was 
called. The poor girl was ill, and I attended upon her. I learned 
from her that her suffering was mental as well as bodily. She had 
married a Protestant, against her father’s wish. He was a stern, 
relentless man, and would not admit her into his house or let her 
see her husband again — her heretic husband, as he called him. .She 
was gradually dying of despair before my very 'eyes; I was with 
her but a month; but every day our affection grew stronger, as we 
learned to sympathize with each other’s woes. Mutual sorrow made 
us sisters. One day she showed me a locket— the facsimile of the 
one you possess, only it contained not her own portrait, but yours. 
Now I know, for the first time, why your features are familiar to 
me.” 

The baronet had sunk into a chair, and had covered his face wuth 
his hands. 

“ What happened to my darling? Oh, my darling! did she die?” 

“ I cannot say,” said Maggie, moved at the emotion displayed by 
this strong man. “She had been only a month in the convent, 
when one day a carriage came to the door, and her father removed 
her, it was said, to another convent. We heard afterwards that she 
was dead.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


145 


” Dead!” groaned Sir Richard. “ Great God!” 

" That was the report. At the same time, another great grief fell 
upon me. My child was stolen from me. I had been affiliated to a 
secret society, and had been very' useful to its members. They 
still required my services. They found out where 1 was, and 
managed to send a letter to me. ‘Leave the convent,’ it said, ‘and 
■join us in Dublin.’ I paid no heed to this request; and a few 
weeks afterwards my child disappeared. He had been playing in 
the garden, and was stolen in a manner that is unknown to this 
day. On coming to my senses, I found another letter waiting for 
me. It was from the chief of the society, and he said that my 
child was in their possession, and that I must fulfil my compact or 
he would be killed. What could I do? I left the convent; and 
since that time I have had blindly to obey the orders of my chief 
to save my child’s life. Deeper and deeper I have waded in crime, 
till I can sink no lower.” 

Sir Richard was stupefied by the intelligence he had received, 
lie felt faint, and, reaching -out his hand for the water-bottle, was 
about to drink of its contents. To his surprise the woman dashed 
it to the ground before he could raise it to his lips. 

“ Stop!” she cried; “ it contains poison, and now the truth is out. 

I put it there to take your life, not knowing who you were. The 
face of that angel saved you.” 

“I understand,” he said; “you are still in their power; but why * 
have they any spite against me?” 

“They wish to strike at Lord Cromer, because he is opposing 
their plans; and if he succeeds in taking London, all hope of Ire- 
land’s independence is at an end.” 

“ And you are ordered to destroy him as well?” 

“Yes.” 

“ What a horrible state of things!” exclaimed Sir Richard Digby. 

“ You will forgive me,” said Maggie, falling on her knees, “ and 
pity me, for the sake of her we both loved.” 

“ In Heaven’s name, rise,” said the baronet, “and you and your 
child shall yet be saved from harm. Come to me to-morrow, and 
take the post of nurse in the headcpiarters of the ambulance corps. 
They will give it to you, and I can see you again. The members 
of the secret society will think you have obtained the situation to 
carry out their designs. Do not be afraid ; nothing shall pass my 
10 


146 ' ' , ■ OUR RADICALS. 

lips; and before long we will punish these scoundrels as they de- 
serve.” 

“ And my boy?” 

“ Shall be saved.” 

Digby slept no more that night. After Maggie had retired to her 
room he sat looking at the portrait of his dead love; and she lived 
again in his memory and in his heart. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The news of the terrible disaster to the British troops in mid-tun- 
nel had at last reached London. 

Never in the annals of English history had such a calamity oc- 
curred before. Out of twenty-eight thousand men more than two 
thirds had perished, and no one could understand how the accident 
occurred. The railway manager, who might have given some ex- 
planation, was still insensible. He had been found in his office, 
three hours after Sullivan had left the station, lying in a pool of 
blood. On examining the model it was found that no less than 
thirty of the minature trains were touching each other, and it was 
clear that some dreadful collision had occurred. 

The first intimation Mr. Cumbermore received was on his return 
from Wimbledon, where he had been to a review of Metrale’s 
forces. He had been anxiously looking forward to receiving some 
intelligence from Ireland, and was in hopes that Lord Saxborough 
had by this time arrived at Holyhead. He thought that the general 
could at once attack Lord Cromer and disperse the rebels. Me- 
trale, anticipating this, had left Wimbledon with the whole of his 
force, to advance towards Lord Cromer’s position, so that should 
this officer face round to defend himself from Lord Saxborough’s 
troops, he could at once fall upon Lord Cromer’s rear. The plan 
had been carefully arranged, and orders sent to Lord Saxborough 
at Holyhead. 

Metrale, however, was entirely ignorant of the terrible disaster 
that had occurred, and, moving forward his entire force, halted for 
the night at a place called Hounslow. 

London was thus practically unguarded. Mr. Cumbermore had. 


OUK KADICALS. 


147 


however, caused a great number of special constables to be sworn 
in; and as the members of the Alcibiades Club were useless as 
soldiers, they were made to patrol the streets as policemen, Ricar- 
dius, who had been employed during the review, and who had no 
other duty to perform that day, called at the Hermitage to pay Lady 
Tryington a visit, 

“ Dear Mr. Ricardius,” said Lady Tryington -after she had wel- 
comed him, ‘ ‘ what dreadful times we live in ! There is my favor- 
ite nephew. Sir Richard Digby, positively serving on the side of 
the insurgents; and his great friend. Colonel Belper, fighting for 
the government in Ireland. You are the first person I have seen to- 
day; now do you bring any news?” 

Ricardius was about to speak when Blanche entered the room, 
looking very pale and ill. Without noticing Ricardius, she went up 
to Lady Tryington and said; 

“ A mounted orderly has just passed the gates, and he asked the 
lodge-keeper how he could best come up with Metrale’s force. In 
return for this information he said that a terrible accident had oc- 
curred in the tunnel, that our army was destroyed, and that London 
was in a panic.” 

“ Good gracious!” exclaimed Ricardius, “it cannot be true; but 
if it is, I am better here. If you will allow me. Lady Tryington, I 
will take this house under my special protection.” 

“Thank you so much,” said Lady Tryington; “ but we are quite 
able to take care of ourselves. But do find out what has occurred, 
and let us know.” 

The task was not an agreeable one to Ricardius, but he could not 
refuse, and, rising from his chair, he left the room. 

London was in a very unsettled state. The minds of the unfor- 
tunate men who had been thrown out of work by the principles of 
the government had been excited by revolutionary speeches to rob- 
bery and plunder. 

The Irish had taken advantage of these doctrines for some years 
past, and had possessed themselves of land that belonged legally to 
English people; and now the unemployed, taking advantage of the 
crisis, determined to commence a similar crusade, under the guid- 
ance of Mr. Bullneck. The minds of the masses since the dises- 
tablishment of the English Church had become very unsettled, 
find since the upper classes had espoused the cause of the “ Kno\y- 


148 OUK RADICALS. 

nothing-for-certain school, the lower classes considered they had 
a right to belong to the “ Share-and-share-alike ” society. Temples 
had been appropriated by these revolutionists for the purpose of 
holding meetings to discuss their proceedings; and it was outside 
one of these buildings that Ricardius stopped his brougham, after 
leaving Lady Tryington’s house to discover the state of affairs. 
Entering the building, Ricardius managed with difficulty to find a 
seat. 

Mr. Bullneck was addressing the vast assembly. He spoke of the 
crisis, and of the advantages they would gain by it — how they 
could plunder the rich now there were none to protect them. 

“ Spare no one!” shouted the Socialist. “We have hitherto kept 
our candle under a bushel, but now we will set London on fire.” 

The audience yelled with delight; and a moment afterwards Ri- 
cardius was pushed against the wall by the crowds of frantic men, 
who rushed into the streets to carry out the doctrines they had been 
taught. 

It was with a heavy heart, and forebodings of evil, that Ricardius 
returned to the Hermitage. 

The news had by this time reached every part of London that a 
great disaster had occurred in the Channel Tunnel. Men stood 
anxiously at their doors, buying the papers that professed to give a 
full and detailed account of the destruction of the British army. 

Ricardius bought one of these papers; and, on arriving at the 
Hermitage, at once hastened to Lady Tryington, who with her two 
nieces were anxiously awaiting his arrival. 

“Is it true?” exclaimed Lady Tryington. 

“ Alas! quite true,” said Ricardius. “ Read here.” 

And he presented the paper to Lady Tryington, who read as fol- 
lows: 

“ ‘ A terrible disaster has occurred. At a cabinet council, held a 
few days ago, it was resolved to abandon Ireland to the Irish, and 
withdraw our troops. Colonel Belper, of the 21st Dragoon Guards, 
was sent with orders to Lord Saxborough to retire immediately. 
The arrangements were completed for the return of the troops, and 
Colonel Belper was left to command the rear-guard, and defend the 
mouth of the Irish Tunnel until Lord Saxborough’s forces had 
reached the English coast. This daring young officer behaved most 


OUR RADICALS. 


149 


gallantl3L His intrenchments were attacked by General Stephens, 
who commanded an overwhelming force, but Colonel Helper re- 
pulsed them with great loss to the enemy. The trains, meanwhile, 
which were carrying the troops to England, collided with those on 
the way to the Irish coast, to bring back the rear-guard. Yesterday 
evening the superintendent who had charge of the line was found 
in his office, lying in a pool of blood. There is very little doubt 
that more than half the English troops have perished in this terrible 
catastrophe. To add to the horror of the scene, the electric light 
was found to have been turned off. Suspicion points to the Feni- 
ans, but no arrests have been made at present. A cabinet council 
is to be held this evening. 

“ ‘ Lord Cromer has reached Windsor, and to-morrow will see the 
engagement between his followers and Colonel Metrale’s forces. 
Should the volunteers win the day we shall witness a coup d'Hat, as 
Lord Cromer has determined to force the government from office. 

“‘Consols, 27.’” 

“ Thank Heaven, he is safe!” murmured Blanche, who had listened 
with a painful suspense while her aunt had been reading the para- 
graph. 

“ Colonel Helper has behaved nobly,” said Lady Tryington. 

“Yes,” said Ricardius; “a splendid resistance. Just such a one 
as I should have made.” 

In spite of her anxiety, Blanche could not resist a laugh. 

Laura, who had been watching her cousin, and understood the 
cause of her distress, cruelly remarked that she did not see how the 
rear-guard of Lord Saxborough’s army could ever reach England. 

“Fortunately, we have friends on both sides,” said Lady Trying- 
ton. “ Dick is with Lord Cromer, and Colonel Helper stands high 
in the favor of the government.” 

“ It never does to be too certain about anything,” said Ricardius; 
“but I think Lord Cromer will take London to-morrow. And, if 
it is to be done, the sooner the better, for Bullneck is inciting the 
populace to plunder. I suppose he looks upon Cumbermore as a 
sinking vessel, and means to desert him as quickly as possible.” 

Ricardius took his leave of the ladies shortly afterwards, and drove 
to his club. There he read upon the tapes that Lord Saxborough 
had arrived at Holyhead, and had stated his loss to be very great; 


150 


OUK RADICALS. 


that a raid had been made by the “ Share-and-share-alike ” society 
upon many public buildings and private houses ; and that there was 
a rumor to the effect that the ministry would resign. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

• 

The morning of the 9th of July broke clear and bright; the sun 
shone down on the long lines of tents pitched in the open fields to 
the west of Hounslow. Lord Cromer had determined not to divide 
his force, but to move with all his men on London, and this was the 
last halting-place. 

In the distance hundreds of carts could be seen bringing supplies 
for the troops. Some soldiers were guarding several hundreds of 
cattle and sheep that had been driven from farms near High Wy- 
combe. The farmers in that neighborhood, who were friends of 
the Radical party, had resisted at first; but, as they found they 
could get a fair price for their beasts, they let them go. As long as 
they made some profit on their cattle, what did it matter to them 
whether Lord Cromer succeeded in reaching London or not? 

Lord Cromer had been up all night with his nephew, considering 
the situation. It was known to them that Lord Saxborough’s army 
had been destroyed in the Channel Tunnel, and that all the opposi- 
tion they could expect to meet would be from Colonel Metrale and 
his forces. Again, it was certain that the metropolitan volunteers 
would welcome their comrades-in-arms. Lord Cromer was aware 
that Metrale had passed the night in Hounslow, and that his forces 
had been billeted in that town. Reconnoitring-parties on both sides 
had come into contact a little before daybreak, and a few shots had 
been fired. About 7 a.m. Sir Richard Digby was informed by his 
scouts that the whole of the opposing force had left Hounslow, and 
was marching forward for the attaek. 

“ So much the better,” said Lord Cromer, on hearing the informa- 
tion; “I should have been obliged to have stormed Hounslow, and 
the destruction of life and property would have been great, if they 
had not left the place. The affair will not last long. Throw out a 
line of skirmishers, and deploy five regiments across the road into 
the fields on either side.” 


OUR RADICALS. 


151 


It was a splendid sight to witness. 

The five strong battalions that formed Lord Cromer’s first line 
advanced to their positions to await the enemy. 

Lord Cromer was looking through his field-glass, as his attention 
had been attracted in one direction by a sudden flash of light, like 
the reflection of the sun on something bright. 

This was a troop of horse artillery, and they had taken up their 
position on a piece of rising ground about a mile and a half distant. 
The gunners were bringing their weapons into position. The offi- 
cer in command of the artillery had hoped to reach the height in 
time to open fire upon the volunteers before they deployed into line. 
He was an old officer, but he had had very little experience in the 
new system of manoeuvring artillery, and was under the impression 
that, as in his own day, gunners could go wherever the cavalry 
went, and that, as far as pace was concerned, the artillery would 
often have the best of it. However, he found himself almost in a 
trap, for the number of minutes he allowed himself to reach the ris- 
ing ground and open fire on the volunteers had flitted by long before 
his guns arrived at the place. But they were now ready for action, 
although time had been lost, and in another moment the flash of fire 
was followed by a dark cloud of smoke. The shells could be heard 
approaching, and the men, who had never been under fire before, 
felt a sinking sensation. But the distance was great, and the firing 
indifferent, and the shells burst in a field some three hundred yards 
from the place where Lord Cromer was standing. 

“ Send a few picked riflemen forward to fire steadily on the gun- 
ners,” said Lord Cromer to Sir Richard Digby, who was standing by 
his side. “They are very exposed, and at fifteen hundred yards 
our men ought to do their work. But, see, some more batteries are 
on their way to aid the enemy; by their appearance, I should say 
they are not regular artillerymen, but enlisted for the occasion, and if 
they have no skilled gunners with them they will do very little harm.” 

At that moment a shell burst at about one hundred yards from 
where the general stood. 

“ He has nearly got the range,” said Lord Cromer, “and the next 
shell will probably do some damage. Take two regiments of cav- 
alry, Dick, and make a feint, as if you were trying to get round 
Metrale’s men on the right flank, and send another officer, with two 
more regiments, to make a similar movement on the left flank. ” 


152 


OUR* RADICALS. 


The volunteers received the artillery fire with more coolness than 
Lord Cromer had imagined. So far but little damage had been done 
by the shells, only four men having been slightly wounded by some 
fragments. The picked marksmen, who, at twelve hundred yards 
range, were firing upon the gunners, had brought down their men 
admirably, and the captain of the artillery, who was short of capa- 
ble gunners, began to lose his head. Metrale, who was endeavoring 
to keep his men to their work, was shot through the right arm, and 
a few minutes afterwards was struck in the chest by another bullet. 
He would have fallen from his horse but for Eugene, who support- 
ed him until a surgeon arrived, who had him lifted from his horse 
very carefully and placed upon the ground. The surgeon took a 
handkerchief from his pocket, and placed it over Metrale’s face; 
then, turning to the bearers of the body, he said, 

“Let no one see him; he is dead.” 

They endeavored to conceal the loss of their leader, but it was 
useless. The report spread lyith alarming rapidity, and a feeling of 
discouragement was at once apparent. But still they held to their 
position, though their heart was not in their work, and though their 
countrymen dropped one by one under the destructive fire of Lord 
Cromer’s rifles. 

Suddenly a voice was heard to exclaim, “ The enemy is behind 
us!” No one ever knew who uttered that cry; but it produced a 
panic, and, throwing down their arms, they fled in every direction. 
They had seen Digby’s movement upon their right and left flank, 
and were convinced that unless they instantly fled, their line of re- 
treat would be cut off. 

Eugene knelt over the body of his fallen leader and friend, for 
since Belper ha^ been in Ireland the lad had been invariably at 
Metrale’s side. 

Lord Cromer with his men were fast advancing, but one of the 
skirmishers, who was suffering from a wound, and who arrived first 
upon the scene, kicked the body of Metrale as it lay upon the ground. 
Maddened with rage at the cowardly act, Eugene rushed back a few 
yards, and, picking up a rifle, discharged it at the man. The bullet 
missed its aim, but a dull thud announced that it had found a billet 
close at hand. In an instant twenty rifles were levelled at the lad, 
who, throwing down his weapon, stood erect and undaunted. Had 
it not been for Sir Richard Digby, who immediately recognized the 


OUR RADICALS. 


153 


boy, and commanded the soldiers not to fire, Eugene would in a 
moment have been killed. A cry arose for his immediate execu- 
tion. “ He has shot the general!” 

“ Shot the general!” exclaimed Sir Richard Digby, and, giving the 
boy into the charge of another officer, he galloped back to Lord 
Cromer, who was in the arms of a surgeon. 

“ Is it serious?” said Digby, hastily. 

“ Fortunately, not very; but his lordship must be kept very quiet. 
I am afraid of fever.” 

After a time Lord Cromer recovered consciousness, and insisted 
upon having Eugene brought to him. 

The accusation brought against him was that he had been lying 
down, and feigning to be dead, at the time the skirmishers ar- 
rived. 

“ Let him be shot!” cried the soldiers. 

“No; let him have a fair trial,” said Lord Cromer to his offi- 
cers. 

There was now nothing to prevent Lord Cromer entering London. 

He had given Sir Richard Digby plenary power to act in his stead. 
It was the moment when a ffrm hand was required at the head of 
affairs. Judging from the reports in the papers, London was in the 
hands of a mob, who, incited to rebellion by Socialistic leaders, 
were plundering every place that was worth the sacking. 

The prime- minister’s house had even been robbed, and it was re- 
ported that Windsor Castle had been spoken of as their next place 
of pillage. Fires had broken out in several places in the metropo- 
lis, and in several instances the insurgents had prevented the fire- 
men from extinguishing the fiames. 

It was said that the ministers had officially resigned, but of this 
report there was no certainty. 

Sir Richard Digby determined to march ten thousand men to 
Wimbledon the following morning, and then enter London with an 
escort of two yeomanry squadrons, and ascertain if a government 
existed. 

If Mr. Cumbermore could not be found, the baronet intended to 
proclaim martial law in the metropolis, and, placing his services at 
the disposal of the sovereign, to await the monarch’s commands. 
Finally, he ordered a court-martial to assemble within twenty-four 
hours to try Eugene. * 


154 


OUR RADICALS. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

It was the eve of the battle of Hounslow. Council after council 
had been held by the cabinet. The members of the government 
had learned the news of the disaster to Lord Saxborough’s forces. 
Everywhere they heard themselves denounced. Mr. Cumbermore 
could no longer meet his colleagues in Downing Street with safety. 
It was necessary to find some spot where they could assemble in se- 
cret. Sir Charles Able, who was as unpopular as his colleagues, 
placed a house belonging to his brother at the minister’s disposal. 
Here they were assembled on the night before the battle in which 
Metrale was slain, and his forces defeated. 

“ It is our last chance,” Mr. Cumbermore said to his friends. “ If 
Metrale is beaten to-morrow, we must escape as fast as possible, and 
throw up the sponge.” 

“We ought to have done so long ago,” said Sir Poplar Burly man. 
And the other members of the cabinet spoke in the same vein. 

The prime-minister felt this acutely; it was true that he had been 
the most resolute of them all against a dissolution; but had they 
not all supported him? It was base ingratitude to throw all the 
onus upon him, especially when retribution was treading upon their 
heels. He felt much as his namesake the prophet had done thou- 
sands of years before, when in the arms of the sailors and about to 
be cast into the sea. 

V It is no use talking of the past,” said Mr. Cumbermore; “let by- 
gones be bygones. The question we have to consider is, whether 
we shall now resign or await the issue of to-morrow’s battle. If 
Metrale wins the day, this volunteer movement will collapse like a 
pack of cards. We shall have to hang Cromer and one or two of 
the leaders. Then, with Saxborough’s remaining forces, we could 
easily establish order in England and Scotland ; for that is all that 
remains of the British Empire.” 

“ It is a terrible thing to shed blood,” said Mr. Buttertongue, with 
his hands clasped together. 


OUR RADICALS. 


155 


“It is better than having our own shed,” said the war min- 
ister. 

“ Oh, yes! oh, yes! that’s true,” replied Mr. Buttertongue. ‘ 

“ London will require a scapegoat if Metrale is defeated, and I 
have no wish to distinguish myself as that animal,” said the prime- 
minister. 

“ I really don’t know what would happen,” said the timid Lord 
O’Hagan Harton. “ I think we had better run away. Up to now 
we have considered our party, and it is time to consider our- 
selves.” 

“I see by the papers,” said Sir Poplar Burlyman, “that the pop- 
ulace burned each of us in eflBgy last night.” 

As the minister was speaking, the tramp of many feet was heard, 
and the sound of many voices. 

The ministers listened. 

“ They have found us out. They will kill us!” exclaimed Lord 
O’Hagan Harton. 

‘ ‘ Come with me, ” said Sir Charles Able, as the noise became 
greater. “ I can take you to the roof; it overlooks the street, and 
we can see what is going on without being observed.” 

The ministers followed Sir Charles Able out of the room, and up 
the stairs on to the roof of the building. 

An immense crowd had halted before the house. In the fore- 
ground could be seen Mr. Bullneck, accompanied by Wild Thyne. 

“Why, confound it!” said Sir Charles Able, “there is Wild 
Thyne at the head of the rabble ! It is really too bad of him, for he 
dined with me last week.” 

“They are ringing the bell,” said Lord O’Hagan Harton, trem- 
bling violently. 

No one opened the door, and the crowd, becoming impatient, 
burst in the portals. Some of the more active men tried to climb 
the high rails that surrounded the garden. 

“We ought to get away at once,” said Lord O’Hagan Har- 
ton. “If they were to capture us, our lives would be the for- 
feit.” 

“Come this way,” said Sir Charles Able, fully alive to the dan- 
ger of the situation. 

Leading the way down a narrow passage at the back of the house, 
he showed the ministers a small postern gate at the side of the garden. 


156 


OUR RADICALS. 


‘•That leads into the street,” said Sir Charles, in a whisper. 
“Lose no time in escaping.” 

“Are you not going yourself?” said Mr. Cumbermore. “Are 
you going to remain here?” 

“Remain here?” answered Sir Charles Able — “of course. I am 
not afraid of the mob.” 

“And if Metrale is beaten?” said Lord O’Hagan Harton, inquir- 
ingly. 

“ Then I shall go to France. 1 have my yacht ready, and if j^ou 
like I wdll take you all with me. ” 

The offer was too good to be refused; and, having ascertained the 
exact place where the vessel was anchored, the ministers shook 
hands with Sir Charles Able and fled. 

When Sir Charles reached the front of the house an excited mob 
had filled the little garden. 

“Share and share alike!” cried the foremost. 

“Down with Cumbermore!” cried those behind. 

Sir Charles was equal to the occasion. Taking a cigarette-case 
from his pocket he lit a cigarette, and then handed the case to Mr. 
Bullneck. 

The crowd were delighted at the coolness of the young statesman, 
and cheered him vociferously. » 

Wild Thyne approached, and shook hands with his friend. 

“Say a few words to them,” said Wild Thyne; “it will have a 
soothing effect.” 

“He is going to speak,” said a voice in the crowd, as Sir Charles 
stood at the top of the stone steps, and raised his hand to insure 
silence. 

“My friends,” said Sir Charles Able, “you are for sharing alike. 
This house, however, does not belong to me, but to my brother, and 
he is one of the greatest communists in London.” 

“Three cheers for Sir Charles’s brother!” shouted Wild Thyne. 

The mob responded to the appeal with three lusty shouts; and 
finding that their intended victims had escaped, Mr, Bullneck and 
his followers quietly left the garden. 


OUR RADICALS. 


157 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Belper had been waiting some time for a telegram from Lord 
Saxborougli to announce the arrival of his army in England. 
Twelve hours had elapsed since his lordship’s departure. Arthur’s 
men had eaten their morning ration, and there was nothing left for 
them in the commissariat. They had fought hard, and were hungry 
and thirsty. Under the most favorable circumstances a long time 
would elapse before his soldiers could obtain another meal. 

Meantime General Stephens had returned to his original position. 
The blockade was as strict as ever, and the young officer deter- 
mined to reconnoitre the ground in person. Riding as close as he 
could to the enemy, he discovered, by the aid of his glass, that one 
part of Stephens’s camp was apparently unprotected. It had be- 
longed to that division of the Irish force which had suffered so ter- 
ribly in the battle. Arthur further ascertained that behind this part 
many head of cattle were grazing in the fields. 

It would not be difficult, he thought, to carry off some oxen in a 
night attack; and it would also have another good result, as it would 
make the enemy less suspicious as to any attempt on his part to re- 
tire. The enemy would be rather inclined to think that the Eng- 
lish had received reinforcements. 

Returning to his camp, Belper found that no telegram had ar- 
rived from Lord Saxborougli. Leaving orders for two battalions to 
remain in their position, he advanced the third. Then taking all 
the horsemen he could muster, he led them to the unprotected part 
of the camp. In a few minutes they had arrived at the cattle-pens, 
and were pulling down the rails. The mounted men drove the 
beasts as silently as possible towards the English lines. 

The heavy tread of the cattle disturbed a sentry, who challenged, 
and, receiving no answer, discharged his rifle. 

Belper’s horsemen redoubled their pace. It was moonlight, and 
the Fenians could be seen turning out of their tents and facing up 
in line of battle. ' 


158 


OUR RADICALS. 


The officer commanding the advanced battalion, who had extend- 
ed his men in skirmishing order, waited till Belper’s horsemen had 
driven the spoil through his line, and then gave the order to fire. 
The enemy, thinking this was the commencement of a general at- 
tack, made every preparation to resist it. Meantime the cattle had 
been driven into the intrenchments, and the advanced battalion 
were retiring. 

Thus Colonel Belper, by a daring act, saved his men from com- 
parative starvation, for it was not till the following evening that the 
trains arrived to convey the rear-guard back to England. 

Belper then heard of the terrible disaster that had happened in 
mid- tunnel for the first time. He commenced his retreat without 
loss of time, for by the aid of his glass he could see that the Fenians 
were strengthening their position. Belper, worn out with his exer- 
tions, lay down to rest for a few. hours, while the preparations were 
being made for the soldiers’ return. 

At midnight he rose, and ordered some dummy figures, with ri- 
fles, to be placed in the position his advanced guard generally occu- 
pied, to deceive the enemy. 

The Irish general did not discover the retreat of the British forces 
till too late; and within a very short time after leaving the Irish 
coast the rear-guard of Lord Saxborough’s army reached England. 
At Holyhead Belper heard of the defeat of Metrale’s forces, and a 
messenger was awaiting him with a letter from Lord Saxborough, 
desiring Belper to join him at Chester. 

“Leave two battalions to help to defend the English end of the 
tunnel, and join me here with the remaining battalion,” were the in- 
structions contained in the despatch. 

And, carrying out the general’s orders. Colonel Belper proceeded 
to Chester. 


OUR RADICALS. 


159 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Preparations were being made in Lord Cromer’s camp for- a 
court-martial. Eugene had been informed that he was about to be 
tried for his life. The charge had been read to him, and it ran as 
follows: 

“ On the 13th of June, 189—, and during the battle of Hounslow, 
he, the prisoner known only by the name of Eugene, when lying on 
the ground and pretending to be wounded, did discharge a rifle 
with intent to kill a volunteer, and by the act severely wounded 
Lord Cromer.” 

The court had been ordered to sit in a large tent belonging to the 
staff at headquarters. 

Punctually at 11 a.m. the prisoner was brought before the court. 
He was deadly pale, and suffering from the rough 'treatment he 
had received at the hands of his guard ; but, bracing himself up for 
the ordeal, he appeared before the officers calm and self-possessed. 

The prosecutor stated his case fairly and impartially, as he be- 
lieved. There was no defence; and after a short deliberation on the 
part of the court, Eugene was led away, having been informed that 
he would not know the sentence of the court until it had been con- 
firmed by Lord Cromer and Sir Richard Digby. 

Maggie had heard of the prisoner. It occurred to her that Eu- 
gene must be the boy Helper had saved from drowning. Sir Rich- 
ard Digby had given orders that Maggie was to be admitted to any 
part of the camp. By this means Maggie obtained access to the 
prisoner. Eugene thanked her for 'her kindness in coming to see 
him in his distress. 

“ If Colonel Belper were here he would be able to save me; and 
if you could communicate with him, you would be doing me a great 
service. ” 

“ I will try to do so,” said Maggie, to this appeal; “ but are there 
no other people interested in your welfare?” 

“No, I have no other friends now,” said Eugene; “ I had some 


160 


OUR RADICALS. 


in France, where I was educated, who would be sorry to hear of my 
fate.” 

“You mean at school?” said Maggie. 

“Yes,” answered Eugene. And he told her the name of the 
place. 

Maggie knew of the establishment, and had often tried to discover 
for herself where it was, but had failed to do so. A suspicion had 
sometimes crossed her mind that her own boy had been placed there, 
as it was known to the Fenians. 

“Was there a boy in the school called Maurice while you were 
there?” inquired Maggie. 

Eugene thought for a moment, and then said there had been a 
boy of that name— a dark-haired boy, with one shoulder higher than 
the other, which had been occasioned by a fall from a ladder while 
playing in a garden in Seville. 

“Yes! yes!” said Maggie; “ it must have been my own child.” 

“ Your child?” said Eugene, astonished. 

“Yes. Tell me,” continued Maggie — “he was well when you 
left?” 

A shade of compassion stole over Eugene’s handsome face. 

“ I must tell you the truth,” he said, kindly, “ sad though it is. 
Poor Maurice died of bronchitis while I was at the school.” 

A low moan broke from Maggie’s lips, and she covered her face 
with her hands. ’ She sobbed for some minutes, and Eugene offered 
her the sympathy he could so well bestow, and told her as much as 
he knew of her child’s illness and death. 

A knock was heard at the door shortly afterwards, and an officer 
entered. Maggie left the cell, crying bitterly. The sergeant, 
thinking her sorrow was chiefly for the young prisoner, tried to 
comfort her. 

“It will not be to-morrow,” he said. 

“ What will not be to-morrow?” she inquired. 

“The execution. He has been sentenced to death, and will be 
shot in a week’s time.” 

Maggie wandered about the camp, mourning the loss of her 
child. Only the other day Barry had told her that if she would 
accomplish the last task confided to her the child should be re- 
stored. 

To save that child’s life she had sinned, at his direction; and all 


OUR RADICALS. 


161 


the time the child had been dead, and the Fenian had doubtless 
known it. 

She had been faithful to a traitor; but now she determined to be 
revenged, for this cruel perfidy, on the man who had robbed her of 
her son, and cheated her into committing so many crimes. But 
first of all she was determined to save Eugene, if it could be done. 

She set to work to find Belper’s address, and from a Court Guide 
she found he resided at 517 Piccadilly. 

Travelling at once to London, she found the house, but was in- 
formed that Colonel Belper was not at home ; but that he had tele- 
graphed to the effect that he would return the next evening. 

' Leaving the house, she wandered about Piccadilly, and considered 
what course to pursue. Then, walking to the Strand, she stopped 
opposite to a house in which the Fenians occasionally held their 
meetings. She determined to enter, and learn what she could of the 
future plans of the conspirators. 

An old woman answered her summons, and, on recognizing Mag- 
gie, allowed her to enter. 

“ The master is expected here presently,” said the old woman. 

“ I will wait for him,” said Maggie; and, ascending the stairs,. she 
entered the room where the Fenians held their meetings. 

Maggie sat down in a chair and waited. Suddenly it occurred to 
her that above the room in which she sat Barry slept, and, it was be- 
lieved, kept his papers in a tin box. 

She walked stealthily up-stairs, but found the door locked. Re- 
turning to the room below, she found a coat hanging against the 
door, and in the pockets she discovered some letters and a bunch of 
keys. 

She again ascended the stairs, and tried the keys in the lock of 
the door. 

At last she found one that fitted, and, turning it, she opened the 
door. 

There were several boxes in the room, and she lost no time in 
trying the keys again. Her efforts were rewarded. She found in 
one box a number of letters written in the French and German lan- 
guages. Presently her eye fell upon the name of Eugene, and above 
it was written, “Expenses for maintenance.” A few lines below 
this was written the name Maurice, and then came some writing in 
cipher. Without a key to the manuscript her task would have been 
11 


162 


OUR RADICALS. 


useless, so she continued to search among the papers-, and at last 
found what she believed to be the necessary document. 

At this moment she recognized the voice of the old woman in con- 
versation with some person in the passage below. 

Hastily arranging the boxes, she placed the papers she had found 
in her pocket, and descended to the other room. 

“ Some of our people have left word that Barry will not be back 
till night,” said the old woman, entering the room. 

“You need not say I have been here,” said Maggie, slipping a 
coin into the woman’s hand. 

Leaving the house, she hired a small room at a hotel in the 
neighborhood, and, having locked the door of. her apartment, sat 
down to read the papers. Her heart beat violently as she read the 
name of her child. The date beside it corresponded with the day, 
the month, and the year in which her boy had been stolen. As she 
read the document word by word, she found that the Fenians had 
stolen her child to induce her to give her services to the society. 
There was a list of the expenses paid for the boy’s maintenance, and 
at a certain date this payment ceased. The date corresponded with 
the death of her child, as Eugene had narrated. 

Next, turning to Eugene’s name, she saw that his expenses had 
been paid by the Fenians as well ; and finally she read that he was 
to be used as a means of inducing Lord Cromer to side with the 
Irish. 

Erremont, the name of the school, was mentioned, and the name 
of the town near to which it stood. 

“I must go there without delay,” thought Maggie; “if I can 
bring the superior back, she will identify Eugene, and with these 
papers 1 shall be able to prove that he is Lord Cromer’s nephew, 
and by that means save his life.” 

After writing a letter to Helper, telling him what had occurre^i to 
his protege, and begging him to take steps to procure his pardon, 
Maggie went to the Victoria Station, and in less than twenty-eight 
hours she was driving in a fiacre along the road that led to Erre- 
mont,. 


r 


OUR RADICALS. 


163 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Belper did not wait long at Chester. After reporting himself to 
Lord Saxborough, and receiving his hearty congratulations on the 
gallant action he had fought when defending the tunnel, he obtained 
a month’s leave of absence, and returned to London. 

“You will find everything in great confusion there,” said Lord 
Saxborough. “ I should advise you to stay here.” 

But Arthur would listen to no .persuasion, and in a few hours 
found himself in London. Having changed his attire, he took 
horses and drove to the Hermitage. He found the young ladies in 
the garden, and as Arthur entered the gates they both hastened tow- 
ards him. 

“ We are so glad to see you!” said Blanche. 

“We welcome a hero!” said Laura. “ I suppose you know how 
things are going on over here. Dick is all-powerful now, and has 
proclaimed martial law. The streets at night are cleared at nine 
o’clock for the present. The season has been quite spoiled; there 
are no balls or dinners, and everybody has gone out of town. ” 

Arthur paid little heed to this long speech of Laura’s; he was 
looking into the beautiful face of the woman he loved. Their eyes 
had met, and Blanche’s had fallen before the tender gaze of the 
young officer. 

“The papers say you will be made a general,” said Laura, anx- 
ious to attract Belper’s attention. 

“ Do not believe all the papers say,” was Arthur’s reply. 

Laura went to announce Arthur’s arrival to her aunt, and Blanche 
was alone with him. 

She spoke to him of Eugene. 

“Eugene under sentence of death!” exclaimed Belper; “I have 
heard nothing of this.” He had not opened Maggie’s letter in his 
haste to leave London for the Hermitage. “I must go at once and 
see Dick about it.” 

“Do you think our influence would be of any avail?” said Blanche; 
“We are so sorry for the boy; and is he to die?” 


164 


OUR RADICALS. 


“I fear there must he some mistake,” said Arthur. “It is very 
possible he may not have understood the charge, as he speaks very 
little English. He is a brave lad, and I am sure would not have 
acted as you say, unless under some strong provocation.” 

A servant brought a letter for Miss Tryington at this moment, and 
she opened it. 

“It is from Dick,” she said; “he is coming here as soon as he 
can get away from his business, to dine with us. I must go in and 
answer the note; and may I mention Eugene in it?” 

It was the first time she had ever asked his permission to do any- 
thing; and he took her hand gently between his own as he replied 
to her. 

“ I have kept the rose,” he said, softly; “ it has brought me back 
to you.” 

Blanche’s face flushed crimson, but she made no answer. 

“ Are you glad I have come back?” he said. 

“ Very, very glad! But now I must answer this letter.” 

“Not for a moment,” he said, detaining her. “Blanche, you 
have twice given me what I asked you for. Each time it has been 
a rose. Should you refuse me if I asked for a more precious gift?” 

“ What have I, that I can give to you?” 

‘ ‘ Y ourself 1” he answered, passionately ; ‘ ‘ your own self 1 Blanche, 
you know I love you dearer than life! dearer than ambition! Tell 
me — oh, tell me, I may still love on !” 

She was very pale as she heard him declare his passion, and would 
have fallen to the ground had he not caught her in his arms. She 
turned her eyes to his face, suffused as they were with happy tears, 
and allowing her head to fall gently upon his shoulder, she whis- 
pered one word of consent. 

“ Arthur!” 

“My darling!” 

He knew that he was loved, though the words were unspoken, 
and he sealed the vow with one long and passionate kiss. 

“Before you reveal our secret,” said Blanche, as they were re- 
turning to the house, “you must hasten to Dick, and intercede for 
Eugene’s life.” 

The breakfast-bell was ringing as they entered the house, and be- 
fore the meal was over Lady Tryington’s keen eye had detected that 
something unusual had occurred. 


OUR RADICALS. 


165 


“You will see us again soon,” said Lady Tryington, as Arthur 
was about to depart. “ This afternoon, I hope. Dick is dining 
with us on Wednesday, and you must give us that evening.” 

“ With pleasure,” said Arthur; “ but I will return to you as soon 
as I have seen Dick, and have prevailed on him to spare Eugene’s 
life.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

It was a busy afternoon in Pall Mall. For the last two days 
there had been an absence of crime and outrage in the metropolis, 
and a general sense of comfort and satisfaction prevailed such as 
had been unknown during the four previous weeks. 

Martial law had been proclaimed. All delinquents had been 
brought before courts presided over by Lord Cromer’s officers. 
One man had been hanged for arson, and several thieves severely 
flogged for violently robbing people in the streets. In each case the 
punishment had followed the sentence within the space of six hours. 

This method of securing order had created a panic among evil- 
doers, and had successfully suppressed the rioting and plunder. 
The police had — most of them — returned to the metropolis, and 
were being reorganized, so that they might recommence their accus- 
tomed duties ; the sovereign had issued a notice that Parliament was 
dissolved, and in all parts of the country preparations were being 
made for a general election. 

In the meantime Lord Cromer had been appointed commander-in- 
chief, with full power to maintain order throughout the kingdom 
by the exercise of martial law. The lobbies at the War Office were 
crowded with people, who all had something to ask of the tempo- 
rary dictator; and in the absence of his uncle, who was still confined 
to his bed. Sir Richard found himself besieged by applicants for ap- 
pointments. 

These gentlemen believed that Lord Cromer would be the new 
prime-minister, and had determined to take time by the forelock. 

To these applicants Sir Richard Digby had turned a deaf ear. He 
announced that all sinecure appointments were to be abolished, and 
the gentlemen were obliged to return to their homes in a very in- 
dignant frame of mind. 


166 


OUR RADICALS. 


Sir Richard had one day dispersed all these office-seekers, and 
was about to congratulate himself on being able to find a few min- 
utes to rest himself, when his aide-de-camp entered the room with 
some papers that required his signature. 

“There is one important document here,” said the aide-de-camp. 
“ It is the court-martial on Eugene.” 

Sir Richard dropped his pen. Disagreeable as had been his other 
work that afternoon, this was the most painful that as yet he had 
had to perform. He carefully read through the proceedings of the 
court-martial, and he saw that the evidence for the prosecution had 
not been in any way shaken by the prisoner; indeed, he had pleaded 
guilty to the charge. He had, however, stoutly denied having pre- 
tended to be wounded. The officers said that on account of the 
prisoner’s youth they would have recommended him to mercy, but 
that the case was so flagrant a one that they felt it out of their 
power to do so. 

Taking his pen up again. Sir Richard was about to write “Ap- 
proved and confirmed” under the statement of the proceedings, 
when a tap was heard at the door. 

“ Some ladies, sir,” said a servant, “who insist upon seeing you. 
They are accompanied by a gentleman, who gave me this card.” 

“This is terrible,” he thought. “They have evidently come to 
plead for the boy’s life; but, at all hazards, I must do my duty.” 

The baronet rose and awaited the arrival of his visitors. 

Lady Tryington entered the room, accompanied by Blanche and 
Arthur Belper. Digby cordially welcomed the ladies, and shook 
Arthur warmly by the hand. 

“We have-come about a very serious matter,” said Arthur; “but 
you know our business, I feel sure.” 

“You mean,” said Sir Richard, “that you have come to plead for 
that unhappy lad? It is too late!” 

“Oh, impossible, impossible I” exclaimed Lady Tryington. “You 
would never have the poor boy shot?” 

“ Dear Dick! for Heaven’s sake spare him!” said Blanche. “ Do 
not be hard or cruel to such a youth. ” 

“God knows,” exclaimed the baronet, “I do not wish to be 
either the one or the other. The case is a strong one, as you can 
see, Belper.” 

“Yes, it is,” said Arthur; “but the boy’s years should stand him 


OUR RADICALS. 


167 


in some stead. Moreover, he accuses the volunteer in this statement 
of having kicked Metrale’s body, and says that the insult maddened 
him to sueh'an extent that he fired without a moment’s refiection.” 

“Why did he not state that at the trial?” inquired Sir Richard 
Digby. 

“ He knows very little English,” said Blanche, eager to catch at 
any idea that would save the boy’s life; “and that is a sufficient 
reason. Dick, you must spare him!” 

“ If he were my own son — ” exclaimed Sir Richard Digby. 

A servant entered again before the baronet could finish his re- 
mark. 

“This person wishes to see you, sir, immediately.” 

Digby opened a small note that the servant carried, and read as 
follows : 

“ I have some important information to convey to you about 
Eugene’s parentage. Your friends must know it in time; you had 
better let me state my case before^ them. 'Maggie.” 

Sir Richard hesitated for a moment; then, handing the note to 
Lady Tryington,he asked her permission that the woman might enter. 

‘ ‘ Certainly, let her come in,” said Lady Tryington. 

Maggie entered the room, and, walking to the table, whispered to 
Sir Richard Digby. 

“You may speak before these ladies,” he replied. 

“I have just come from Paris,” Maggie said, “where I have made 
some important discoveries about Eugene. I will be as brief as I 
can, but I must claim yoiir patience, A few days ago Sir Richard 
Digby arrested me in the act of taking his life, but he spared me be- 
cause I had served and loved his young wife.” 

“ His wife!” ejaculated Lady Tryington. “ Dick, is this true?” 

Sir Richard Digby bowed his head. 

“He gave me authority to go about the camp,” continued Maggie; 
“and I saw Eugene, who told me of his early life in France. I 
learned from him that my own child had been at the same school. 
To gain what information I could about my own boy, I went to this 
school and saw the superior. I had certain proofs in my possession 
that she was in the pay of the Fenians, and I threatened to expose 
her to the French authorities unless she told me the whole truth 
about Eugene. She then informed me that two children had been 


168 


OUR RADICALS. 


placed in her charge some years before, one by a Spanish nobleman, 
the other by a Fenian agent. She was paid handsomely for the sup- 
port of the lads for some time. Then she heard that the Spaniard 
was dead, and that no more money would be forthcoming for the 
support of the child. About the same time, the boy who had been 
placed with her by the Fenians died. It occurred to her that she 
could still receive the Fenians’ money by representing the Spanish 
child as the one belonging to the Fenians. This was easily done, as 
the Fenians had never asked to see the child they had placed with 
her, and he had been four years at the school already. 

“ Eugene, now lying under sentence of death, is the unfortunate 
boy who was represented by this woman as belonging to the Fenians, 
whereas he was really the grandson of a Spanish nobleman, and 
your own son. Sir Richard Digby, by your marriage with his 
daughter.” 

Sir Richard Digby started from his chair, his face white as snow, 
and his bloodless lips quivering with emotion. 

“My son!” he gasped; “Eugene my own son! What proofs 
have you?” 

‘ ‘ Every necessary proof, ” answered Maggie ; ‘ ‘ and the superior of 
the school is now in England, waiting to corroborate my statement.” 

Sir Richard Digby sank down again upon his chair, and buried his 
face in his hands. 

“There are forty-eight hours,” he said, at length, “before the 
execution can take place. Can you establish your statements be- 
fore that time?” 

‘ ‘ I can, ” answered Maggie. 

A tap was heard at the door, and Sir Richard’s aide-de-camp 
entered. 

“The bearer of the statement of the court-martial is waiting be- 
low. Can it be confirmed?” 

Sir Richard hesitated for a moment ; then, taking his pen, confirmed 
the verdict. 

“You have signed the death-warrant of your own child!” cried 
Lady Tryington. 

“ I must do my duty,” said Sir Richard, handing the document to 
his aide-de-camp. 

“ Come, Maggie, if you can satisfy my mind I will go at once and 
plead for mercy to the crown. The sentence cannot be carried out 


OUR RADICALS. 


169 


for forty-eiglit hours, hut I have no time to lose. Good-bye,” he 
added to his friends, as he left the room with Maggie; “pray that 
I may bring you back good news.” 

“ Let us endeavor to see Lord Cromer,” said Blanche, as they were 
leaving the War Oflace, “and induce him to use his influence for 
Eugene.” 

Belper ordered the coachman to drive to -the mansion inhabited 
by the wounded general. They found Lord Cromer’s medical ad- 
visers in attendance. 

“He is very ill,” said Dr. Planselle; “ any excitement might cause 
his death. We really cannot allow you to be admitted.” 

“But it is a question of life and death,” said Lady Tryington. 

“I am very sorry. Lady Tryingion, but we must do our duty,” 
answered the physician. 

*** * * * * * * 

{Here the onginal MS. ends, and the conclusion of the story is ampli- 
fied from Colonel Burnaby's suggestions.) 

Finding it impossible to obtain an interview with Lord Cromer, 
Lady Tryington returned to the Hermitage with her niece and Colonel 
Belper. 

“ We shall hear from Dick as soon as he leaves Windsor,” said 
Lady Tryington. 

They had not long to wait in suspense, for a telegram arrived 
from Sir Richard Digby the same night. It was worded as follows : 

“The sovereign has been pleased to pardon Eugene, and Lord 
Cromer is quite satisfied with the decision. ” 

“ Now all our troubles are at an end, I hope,” said Lady Trying- 
ton. ‘ ‘ And while the country is settling down, after all these months 
of rebellion, I think we may as well go abroad.” 

“Oh, that will be delightful, aunt!” said Blanche, “if—” 

“If Arthur accompanies us,” added Lady Tryington, smiling. 
“Well, I have no doubt he will. What do you say, Arthur?” 

“That nothing will give me greater pleasure, if I can get a long- 
enough leave of absence, ’’replied Belper. 

“ The only thing that remains to be settled is, where shall we go?” 
said Lady Tryington. 

It was decided, much to Laura’s dissatisfaction, that they should 


170 


OUR RADICALS. 


make a tour through Spain, as it would enable Blanche to study the 
paintings of the Spanish masters, in which art she was considered to 
be very accomplished. 

“There was a lady in Seville, the last time we stayed there, who 
was really very clever with her brush,” said Blanche. “You remem- 
ber, aunt, I took a few lessons from her. ” 

“I remember,” Lady Tryington replied. “We met her first in 
the old Alcazar Gardens, and I was struck with her singular- 
beauty.” 

“ She lived in the Plaza de la Constitucion,” said Laura; “ and you 
thought her a clever artist because she had such an elegant study. 
One might as well say that a book must be well written because it 
happens to be bound in morocco.” 

It was arranged that they should leave England in less than a 
month; and, if possible, Sir Richard Digby was to be one of the 
party. 

“ I think 1 shall prevail on him to go,” said Belper, as be was say- 
ing good-night. 

“ And perhaps,” said Blanche, “he will take us in his yacht.” 


CHAPTER XLI. 

The strain of the last few months had told heavily upon Sir 
Richard Digby’s health, and at the urgent request of his physician 
he consented to accompany Lady Tryington to Spain. 

They had now been in Seville a week. Much of that time Digby 
had spent in solitude. The place was associated with the happiest 
days of his life — those days which he had spent with the young wife 
he had so passionately loved and so prematurely lost. 

For hours he would stand upon the cathedral tower, listening to 
the faint, monotonous hum of the busy city beneath, or the bells as 
they pealed from the cathedral tower in honor of some Christian 
festival. In the distance rose the Moorish palace of the Spanish 
kings — rich with its many historical associations, and surrounded by 
its marble courts and terraces; its olive, orange, and myrtle groves, 
abounding in curious remains of Moorish and Roman antiquity. 
Far beyond, the Guadalquivir wound like a serpent through a flat 


' OTJR RADICALS. 


171 


and marshy country; and on the other side of the river lay the 
province of Triana, the home of the Andalusian gypsies. 

On every hand he was reminded of the past — that past which he 
had treasured so dearly, and which was ever present to him as he 
gazed into the fair face of the miniature he wore around his neck. 

Was she dead? or was she alive? Had she remembered him 
through the long and weary years as he had remembered her? 
Would they ever stand heart to heart, as they had stood in the old 
days when silence was often sweeter than speech, and when only the 
twitter of the birds among the orange-trees, or the sighing of the 
wind through the myrtle boughs, or the liquid plashing of the foun- 
tains bad broken the dreamy stillness? 

“How different my life would have been if she had lived!” he 
murmured to himself, day by day. “How proud she would have 
been of Eugene!” 

Maggie’s discovery of Eugene’s parentage had not rested solely 
upon the evidence of the superior of the school at which he had been 
placed. A Bourbon woman, who had been in the employ of the 
superior, was found, and she corroborated her mistress’s testimony, 
and identified Eugene as the boy who had been placed at Erremont 
by his grandfather. Eugene was now Lady Tryington’s constant 
companion, and the growing favor he gained in her eyes was due as 
much to his handsome presence as his noble disposition. 

One morning, at breakfast. Sir Richard Digby exclaimed : 

“I have a letter from dear old Cromer! He wishes to be kindly 
remembered to you all ; and he says that he was never so well in his 
life, and never more able to carry out the work he has in hand. 
What do you think of that, aunt?” 

“ I am delighted to hear it,” answered Lady Tryington; “I only 
hope he may not overtax his strength. ” 

“As our fair Blanche is doing with those brushes and easels,” 
‘added Sir Richard. “ I wonder you do not take better care of her, 
Belper. There is another letter from Maggie ; she wishes me to get 
her a place in the Convent of Our Saviour at Seville. Do you think 
it could be done?” 

“I will speak to Ursula about it this morning; she has great in- 
fluence with the sisters.” 

Sir Richard Digby started. 

“Ursula!” he exclaimed. “ Who is Ursula?” 


172 


OUR RADICALS. 


“Oh, she is a most charming lady who lives in the Plaza de la 
Constitucion, and who is explaining to me the beauties of Velasquez 
and Murillo,” said Blanche, who was painting in the shade cast by 
the awnings over the window. 

“Oh, an artist!” said Sir Richard. 

“Yes,” said Laura, contemptuously; “only an artist!” 

“Maggie adds in her letter that it will not be safe for her to stay 
in England much longer.” 

“ Why not?” inquired Lady Tryington. 

“Well, I suppose she fears the Fenians may make a dying effort 
to avenge themselves on her for having exposed their vile pl6ts,” 
said Digby. 

“The trial of Moonlight Barry and his accomplices is at an end. 
They are to be hanged,” said Arthur Belper, appearing at the 
window. 

He had been reading a copy of the Scraicler, and enjoying a cigar 
upon the balcony; and as he opened the window the fumes of his 
tobacco entered the apartment, mingled with the odor of tropical 
plants. 

“Is that in Ryder’s paper?” inquired Sir Richard. 

“Yes,” answered Arthur; “and here is a paragraph about the 
ministers.” 

“Oh, please read it!” exclaimed Lady Tryington. 

“We stated in our columns last week that Sir Charles Able had 
placed his yacht at the disposal of the late cabinet ministers. We 
are now in a position to say that those gentlemen have availed them- 
selves of this generous offer, and have started for a cruise round the 
world.” 

“ They will be more at sea than usual,” said Sir Richard, smiling, 
as he lit a cigar and joined his friend upon the balcony. 

“Where are you going?” said Lady Tryington to Blanche, w’ho 
had risen from her painting and was folding the easel. 

“I am going to the Plaza de la Constitucion,” replied Blanche. 
“I am not only to admire the artist’s work this morning, I am to 
hear something of the life of the artist.” 

“Very interesting, indeed, such a life must be!” said Laura, sar- 
castically. 

“Indeed, it will be,” said Blanche; “and knowing her to be a 
high-spirited, noble-minded woman, it is not strange that I should 


OUR -RADICALS. 


173 


be interested in her career. Moreover, she is so exceptionally beauti- 
ful that I have no doubt her life has been one long romance. You 
must not expect me back till late,” added Blanche, as she left the 
room. 

“You look worried and anxious, Dick,” said Arthur to his friend, 
as they sat smoking upon the balcony. 

There was a slight pause before Sir Richard answered. 

“ Who, I— I? Yes, you are right, I am anxious; this nothing-to- 
do life does not amuse me. I want work, the infallible panacea for 
an unquiet mind ; and if it were not discourteous to my aunt, I 
should return to England and get employment from Lord Cromer. 
I know I could make myself useful to him in his new capacity as 
military dictator. By the wa}^ who is this artist that monopolizes 
so much of Blanche’s time?” 

“I reall}'' don’t know much about her. Blanche says she is a 
woman with a history.” 

“ And her name?” 

“ Ursula is the only name I know her by.” 

“I started this morning when I heard Blanche mention it; it 
seemed like an echo to my thoughts. You know, Arthur, that that 
was the name of my wife.” 

“ And have you never been able to discover whether she is alive 
or dead?” 

“Never,” groaned Digby, “never. We were married, as you 
know, against her father’s wish. A month after our marriage we 
were walking together under the shadow of this very cathedral, 
w^hen I was suddenly struck to the ground by a blow from behind. 
When I recovered consciousness I found my wife gone, and from 
that night to this day I have never seen her beautiful face.” 

“Did you not go to her father?” 

“Yes; and to my surprise he appeared to share my grief, and of- 
fered to assist me in my search for her. Day and night I sought 
her everywhere, but to no purpose. father’s death brought me 
suddenly to England twelve months after I lost her; on my return I 
renewed my search, but with the same result. The only informa- 
tion I have ever been able to gain was from Maggie, who recognized 
in her portrait the mistress whom she had served in the Convent of 
Our Saviour. That fact the sisters of the convent have corroborated, 
but they know nothing of her subsequent fate.” 


174 


OTJll RADICALS. 


“And you still live in hopes of seeing her?” 

“ Yes; I still live in hopes.” 

In the meantime Blanche had made her way to the Plaza de la 
Constitucion. On arriving at the artist’s house, she was admitted 
into the inner court, in which a fountain was cooling the languid air 
with its invigorating sprays, and was then conducted through a cor- 
ridor into a large and handsomely furnished saloon. It was evi- 
dently the artist’s studio, for it revelled in that artistic litter which 
is the predominant feature of the “ workshop of the genius.” There 
was an anteroom adjoining, and the doors leading to it were covered 
by two heavy hangings, elaborately embroidered with needlework. 
As Blanche was examining the design of the work, the folds were 
thrown aside, and the artist passed between them into the room. 
Her figure was faultlessly proportioned, and her carriage full of 
grace and dignity. Blanche thought, as their eyes met, that she had 
never beheld so beautiful a woman. 

When they were seated at their work, Blanche noticed for the first 
time that the artist wore a wedding-ring. 

“You are married!” she could not resist saying. 

“I am a widow,” answered the artist. 

“I would not like to wake any sad recollections,” said Blanche, 
tenderly; “ but I should like to hear more of your life. It has been 
spent, as you say, in such singular solitude.” 

“Not singular solitude,” answered the artist; “for, after such a 
loss as I sustained, it was but natural that I should wish to avoid 
society.” 

“I understand,” said Blanche; “you loved your husband.” 

“Loved him!” she exclaimed; “no words can describe how ten- 
derly, how devotedly. When he was taken from me by my father and 
I was forced to take refuge in a convent, I thought I should never 
recover the loss. The birth of our child, however, reconciled me to 
life, and I lived to teach him to honor and love the name of his fa- 
ther.” 

“But how was it your husband never returned to you?” 

“He was killed in South Africa. My father showed me his name 
one morning in an English paper, and, being in a weak state of 
health, the shock proved too much for me, and it was the commence- 
ment of a long and serious illness. When I recovered another mis- 
fortune was in store for me. My child had died, and had been buried 


OUR RADICALS. 


175 


two months. Since my father’s death I have lived the life you see 
me living to-day, patiently waiting to join those who were so dear 
to me, and whose memories I cherish so devotedly.” 

“ Have you no portrait of your husband?” inquired Blanche; “or 
perhaps, if you have, you would prefer not to show it to me.” 

“I have one,” said the artist, drawing a small locket from her 
breast. “ I have never shown it to any one, but you have stolen so 
many of my secrets from me, with that sweet face of yours, that I 
cannot deny you this request : there it is.” 

Blanche glanced at the portrait with some interest, but as her eyes 
fell upon the face revealed to her, she started from her seat, pale 
and breathless. 

“ Oh, no, no!” she exclaimed: “it cannot be; it cannot be!” 

“ What is the matter?” cried the artist. “Did you know him?” 

“Tell me, tell me,” continued Blanche, who was striving hard to 
keep back the tears that were filling her eyes, “his name!” 

“ Richard Digby.” 

“My cousin!” 

“Your cousin?” 

Blanche fell back upon a couch and buried her face in her hands, 
and her companion, forgetting her own grief, knelt beside her, and 
tried to comfort her. 

“Believe me,” said Blanche, “these are not tears of sorrow, but 
joy.” 

“Joy!” said her companion; “I do not understand.” 

“Not now, but you will hereafter. Providence has led me here 
to restore to you all that you hold near and dear— your husband and 
your child.” 

With a wild cry of delight her companion threw her arms around 
Blanche’s neck.” 

“ Then they are not dead!” she cried. “ITe is not dead!” 

“No; he lives and loves you as faithfully as you have loved him.” 

It was evening. The lamps had not been lit, and the objects in 
the room were only visible in outline, and assumed unnatural pro- 
portions in the pervading gloom. The air entered through the open 
windows, heavily laden with the perfume of citron and orange; and 
without the beams of the rising moon quivered in the basin of a clam- ^ 
orous fountain. 


176 


OUR RADICALS. 


Two figures stood in the twilight, clasped in each other’s arms. 

“ That we should meet after these long years of pain, Ursula, my 
darling!” 

“ I could endure it all again, dear husband,” she replied* “to feel 
your arms once more around me, and your dear face close to mine, 
as I have pictured it during the long days and nights when I had 
but your picture to look upon.” 

“JVIy darling!” 

Presently the lamps were lit, and Lady Tryington entered the 
room accompanied by her two nieces and Colonel Belper. Eugene 
followed tliem shortly afterwards and sat down beside his mother. 

- “May I trouble you one moment, Dick, on a matter of business?” 
said Belper, seating himself at a writing-table. 

“Certainly.” 

“What are you doing?” said Blanche, leaning over Arthur’s 
shoulder. 

“ I am writing a check for £500, dear, to settle my bet with Dick.” 

“Oh, you men are so extravagant in your pleasures!” exclaimed 
Lady Tryington. 

“Never mjnd, aunt,” said Sir Richard Digby. “The money shall 
not go out of the family. Ursula has decided to buy a wedding- 
present with it for Blanche.” 


THE END. 


KHIVA. 


BURNABY’S RIDE TO 

A Ride to Khiva: Travels and Adventures in Central Asia. 
By Fred Burnaby (Captain Royal Horse Guards). With 
Portrait, Maps, and an Appendix, containing, with other 
information, a Series of March-routes, Compiled from a 
Russian Work. pp. 404. 12 mo, Cloth, $2 00. 

Whirls us along almost as swiftly and gayly as the story of Gil Bias, yet 
when we lay it down we find ourselves apprised of much that is new and 
signal respecting a most interesting country. ... A vivid sense of humor 
and a mastery of crisp, bright English. — N’. Y. Sicn. 

Captain Burnaby’s story is told in a dashing, off-hand style. . . . The de- 
scriptions in this book are graphic and pleasing, and the reader is carried 
along by the freshness and dash of the author’s style. From the first page 
to the last there is not a dull line to be found. — TV Y. Herald. 

His work is a valuable addition to the library of travel in Central Asia, 
presenting a variety of novel information, apart from the gay and soldier- 
like style of its composition. Captain Burnaby is a rare master of de- 
scriptive writing. With no affectation of humor, he is alive to the comic 
aspect of things ; his mind is always on the alert, and his hand never 
wearies ; his language is that of life, not of books. — N. Y. Tribune, 

His entire trip was full of startling experiences and hair-breadth es- 
capes. . . . The first object of the book is to entertain the reader. Captain 
Burnaby does this by an unaffected, honest style, which gives the color of 
truth to the thrilling adventures told.— W. Y. Journal of Commerce. 

Besides adding much to our knowledge of the out-of-the-way part of the 
world in which he travelled, the book is filled with interesting and amusing 
anecdotes illustrating the habits and manners of the people, vivaciously 
told. — N. Y. Mail. 

He writes in a clear and lively style, and always gives the impression 
that he keeps within strict bounds of accuracy. Above all, he is concise, 
and does not write for the sake of writing. — Saturday Review, London. 

A very spirited and clever book. — N. Y. World. 

Of courage Burnaby has given proofs which it would be difficult to match 
from the annals of exploration. — Examiner, London. 

A charming and instructive book. — Times, London. 

His book moves not only with a rapid current of individual interest, but 
abounds in keen side-glances. He has a shrewd eye for character, a quick 
eye for facts. — Pall Mall Gazette, London. 

His style is easy and natural, never flags, and goes straight to the point. 
-—Athenmim, London. 

One of the most lively and interesting narratives which have been pub- 
lished for some years. — Boston Transcript. 


Published HARPER & BROTHERS, New Y'ork. 

tW~ The above work sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States 
or Canada, on receipt of the price. 

Habpeb’s Catalogue mailed, postage prepaid, on receipt of Ten Cents. 


HARPER’S PERIODlCAKt?, 


HARPER’S MAGAZINE, One Year $4 00 

HARPER’S WEEKLY, One Year 4 00 

HARPER’S BAZAR, One Year 4 00 

HARPER’S YOUNG PEOPLE, One Year .... 2 00 

HARPER’S FRANKLIN SQUARE LIBRARY, 

One Year, 52 Numbers 10 00 

HARPER’S HANDY SERIES, One Year, 52 Nos. . 15 00 

\ 


The Volumes of the Weekly and Bazar begin with the first Numbers 
for January, the Volumes of the Young People with the first Number for 
November, and the Volumes of the Magazine with the Numbers for June 
and December of each year. 

Subscriptions will be commenced with the Number of each Periodical 
current at the time of receipt of order, except in cases where the sub- 
scriber otherwise directs. 


BOUND VOLUMES. 

Bound Volumes of the Magazine for three years back, each Volume 
containing the Numbers for Six Months, will be sent by mail, postage 
prepaid, on receipt of $3 00 per Volume in Cloth, or $5 25 in Half Calf. 

Bound Volumes of the Weekly or Bazar for three years back, each con- 
taining the Numbers for a year, will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of $7 00 per Volume in Cloth, or $10 50 in Half Morocco. ^ 

Harper’s Young People for 1881, 1883, 1884, and 1885, hand- 
somely bound in Illuminated Cloth, will be sent by mail, postage 
prepaid, on receipt of $3 50 per Volume. 

958^ The Bound Volumes of Harper’s Young Pkopi.k for 1880 and 1SS2 are out of 
^ stock, and will not he reprinted at present 


ADVERTISING-. 

The extent and character of the circulation of Harper’s Magazine, 
Harper’s Weekly, Harper’s Bazar, and Harper’s Young People 
render them advantageous mediums for advertising. A limited number 
of suitable advertisements will be inserted at the following rates : — In the 
Magazine, fourth Cover Page, $1500 00; Third Cover Page, or First 
Page of advertisement sheet, $500 00; one-half of such page when whole 
page is not taken, $300 00; one-quarter of such page when whole page is 
not taken, $150 00 ; an Inside Page of advertisement sheet, $250 00; one- 
half of such, page, $150 00; one-quarter of such page, $75 00; smaller 
cards on an inside page, per line, $2 00 : in the Weekly, Outside Page, 
$2 00 a line ; Inside Pages, $1 50 a line : in the Bazar, $1 00 a line ; in the 
Young People, Cover Pages, 50 cents a line. Average : eight w'ords to a 
line, twelve lines to an inch. Cuts and display charged the same rates for 
space occupied as solid matter. Remittances should be made by Post- 
Office Money Order or Draft, to avoid chance of loss. 

Address: HARPER & BROTHERS, 

Franklin Square, New Y^ork. 


# 


% 


I 

i 


j 








